Day to Day
by byebyebirdie58
Summary: The past five years haven't been easy for the Curtis family, especially Darry. Even when things seem to be looking up for the rest of the world, Darry's seems to be in a permanent state of chaos. T for language and possible adult themes.
1. Chapter One: Darry is Outdone

**A/n:** I do not own S.E. Hinton's book, _The Outsiders_, nor am I receiving any profit from this story. I do not own the song _Where Do the Children Play?, _written and performed by Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam).

This story is a tie-in, though not a parallel, with my earlier fic, Intervention. Enjoy! Reviews and concrit are love!

* * *

_Well you roll on roads over fresh green grass,  
For your lorry loads pumping petrol gas,  
And you make them long and you make them tough,  
But they just go on and on, and it seems that you can't get off._

"Hey, big guy, watch it, willya?"

"You oughtta watch out yourself, Thompson. You're gonna knock the poor kid off the roof if you don't watch out," Jimmy said.

"Might as well," Thompson murmured. "Kid shouldn't be workin' this hard. He should be looking for a date or somethin'."

Darry turned to his co-workers after regaining his footing. Thompson really did almost knock him over. "Hey, dickheads, you know I can hear y'all."

"Good." Thompson grunted and got up to look for a missing nail. "Then get out of here. We'll cover for you. It's Saturday, kiddo. Take the day off."

Darry shook his head. He knew he should be taking his friend's favor with glee, but he just couldn't. Despite the knots in his back, the calluses on his hands, and the sunburn on his neck, Darry was just as stubborn as he'd been in high school. Besides, he wouldn't go home just yet. It was too quiet there without Sodapop. Sure, Pony was there, yes, but it just wasn't the same. No matter how close he and Pony grew, it would never replace what Soda had been to the both of them.

"Kid, what's it to you? We're almost done anyway. We'll fill in for ya, you ain't losing anything. Get outta here. Thompson and I don't care where you go, but just stay away from here until Monday. Okay?"

Darry sighed. "Either of you have a cigarette?"

Jimmy grinned. "If I give you one, will you go?"

"Yeah, sure. I just need something to help me out."

Jimmy lit a cigarette and handed it to Darry, giving him a nice shove away from the construction site at the same time.

As Darry reached the ground, he heard Jimmy's low voice talking to Thompson. "Lordy knows that kid does need some kind of help."

Darry cringed as he heard Jimmy's words hit him. Charity. He wasn't no fucking charity case and he certainly didn't need anyone's sympathy, especially not bums like Jimmy Larson and Peter Thompson. He sighed and took a long drag on his cigarette. The smoke hit his throat with a surprising rush and Darry was thrown into a coughing fit. There went his good health record. Some little punks were laughing at him across the street and Darry glared over at them. What did they know? He doubted they'd ever worked a day as hard as he was having in their life. Plus, he doubted any of them ever got action. If they had, would they be over there, pointing and laughing at his misery? No, he thought not.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He hadn't even gotten to second base in months, let alone gotten enough rest to try. For twenty-four years old, he hardly had an excuse to be too stressed. The bastards over at social services were virtually gone since Pony would soon be eighteen; the mortgage was finally paid, and Pony had his track scholarship to college. Things were actually looking up for him. A recent raise had given Darry enough to put away for both him and Pony, and there was always the money that Soda had made in the army, but for now he'd have rathered they didn't have any of that money.

Darry sighed and took another drag on his cigarette. This time it was better and he actually felt relieved. Smoking didn't help everything, but it at least took some weight off of his shoulders. Now if someone could just block the sun out. He'd put at least half a bottle of sunscreen on his neck and arms before leaving the house, and yet they were still burnt to a crisp at the end of his shift. Well, this just sucked royally. He guessed he'd walk on over to Two-Bit's, see if he was off of work. (Two-Bit had finally gotten a job as a waiter, which was perfect for him. Customers loved him, the cooks loved him, and his boss couldn't get enough of him, though Darry couldn't imagine how. Sometimes Two-Bit got on his last nerve)

Right about now Darry really was regretting allowing Ponyboy to borrow the truck. It was scorching hot out and mosquitoes were biting into him like he was the last supper. The Mathews' place was luckily only a block away, so Darry kept on trudging, despite the desert-like heat. Darry took a deep drag on his half smoked cigarette and exhaled. Half a block left. He kept on walking, counting his steps as he did. Quarter left. Inhale, exhale.

Finally, he was there. Jesus, it was about time! His shirt was soaked through, and even if Two-Bit wasn't home, Peggy made sure to let Steve, Pony, and Darry aware that they were welcome any time, any day. He opened the screen door and poked his head in.

"Hello?"

No one answered and Darry let himself in. Sweet Jesus, what a relief. It was at least fifteen degrees cooler in there than it was outside. Again, Darry hollered and heard something move upstairs. It couldn't have been Peggy, he was sure. She was working at the factory during the day. Perhaps it was Anita, Two-Bit's little sister. But if Darry knew Anita, she was probably out with her friends, like any other sixteen year-old would be.

"_Hello_?" Darry said, a bit louder this time.

A muffled response came, finally. "Who's there?"

"It's Darry."

A few moments later he heard heavy footsteps plod down the stairs. It was Two-Bit. He could tell just by the loudness of his steps.

"Well, hey there. Long time no see, Dar." Two-Bit grinned and Darry smiled a little. He couldn't stand the sonofabitch sometimes, but other times he just couldn't help but smile around him.

"It's only been a week, Two-Bit."

"A week without seeing my favorite oldest Curtis brother! That counts for something."

"Sure, Two-Bit, sure." Darry followed Two-Bit's lead and went into the kitchen. Lucky for Two-Bit, he lived with a nearly neurotic cleaner, and Peggy insisted on a clean kitchen, even if the rest of the house lay in disarray. He took a seat at the table while Two-Bit rummaged through the ice box to find something to drink. He came back with a bottle of beer and a glass of milk.

Darry cocked his eyebrow in question. "Milk and beer?"

"Beer's for you," Two-Bit grunted, sitting down. "I'm laying off for the next week or so. Kathy says she ain't talkin' to me until I do. Funny thing is, I'm hardly ever drunk. She just don't like that I drink on weekends. I got the right to, don't I?"

"Sure, whatever you say." Darry took a church key from his pocket and opened the Budweiser. He took a sip and sighed. What a relief to drink _something_ other than crummy tap water from the work site.

"How's it going for you?"

"Horrible," Darry said. "My back aches something terrible and they're talking about laying off a few workers since there's talk of recession."

"Shit, really?" Two-Bit looked genuinely concerned. "What'll you do if they lay you off?"

"Find somewhere else to work, I 'spose. I can always pick up more hours at the warehouse."

Two-Bit sighed. "Well, you know, I'm always willin' to help and all if you need it."

"Yeah, thanks, buddy."

The two sat in silence for a few moments, drinking. Darry ran a hand through his hair and wished he really could go to the Mathews' for help. He had no idea what to do if he did get laid off. Going to Peggy would be unfair. She was working hard enough to make ends meet for just Two-Bit and Pat, let alone help him and Pony out. Steve wasn't much help, either, seeing as he had hardly seen Steve since he and Evie officially got back together.

Two-Bit apparently sensed Darry's unease and spoke up once more. "How's everything on the dating front? Getting any action there?" His friend tried to smile, but it looked all too forced.

"Nah, not really. I haven't seen many interesting girls around the factory or any of our work sites."

"We gotta get you some action." He tisked and smiled. "I know what! Peggy's always looking to take on some new project. She knows this girl, Martha something. Maybe she can set you two up."

He laughed. Since when did Two-Bit care about who Darry did or didn't date. Maybe Two-Bit was becoming his own mother. "All right, Mother Mathews. Just who is this girl?"

"Aw, come on. Be fair, man." Two-Bit laughed. "She's real nice. Pretty, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's got real nice red hair, and she's real tall."

Darry sighed. "I wish I could, man, but I dunno. I've got too much on my mind right now. Maybe another time?"

"Dar, I'm starting to worry about you. You need to get yourself laid."

"Two-Bit, I've been laid plenty of times. That's not the problem. I've just got things on my mind, you know?"

"Okay, fine. You need to get yourself laid _again_. I'm starting to think you're asexual or something. Even Ponypunk's outdoing you... So to speak."

Darry sighed. "Maybe you're right. I guess I should find someone, you know?"

"Yeah, well, I'll talk to Peggy. She likes being a matchmaker and all."

Darry was quiet for a few minutes, and, finally to break the silence, said, "What time is it?"

Two-Bit shrugged and glanced at the wall clock. "Near five. Why?"

"I dunno, I guess I'll get goin', though. Maybe make dinner and see if Pony's home. I'm not working at the warehouse tonight, anyway. They hired a few new guys, so I'm not needed for the week."

"All right, man. See you later."

Darry smiled. It was a sad, even forced smile and both he and Two-Bit knew that. Neither of them wanted to say anything about it, though. Some things were just better left unspoken of.

He walked out of the Mathews', back into the sweltering heat and began his trek home. The distance from their houses was less than a mile, but in this heat it felt more like ten miles. He really needed to get out of all of this self-pity bullshit, but right now, just wallowing in it seemed better than nothing.

He almost wished Two-Bit _would_ set him up with that girl. He knew it'd never happen, it was just a kind gesture, but he still wished it could happen. Two-Bit had his own problems, though, like mending a relationship with Kathy that was hanging on by a string.

Two more blocks and he'd be home. Right now, that was all he wanted to do. He wanted to pass out on the couch and sleep, or maybe have a couple of beers and another smoke. Maybe even read a book and find a movie to catch. He hadn't been to a picture in months, and he really did miss it. Yeah, sure. That's what he'd do. It wasn't much, but it was _something_ to do.

* * *

"Hey, Darry. You home?"

Shit, was Pony home already? Darry opened his eyes and then immediately covered them with his arm to shield them from the bright lamp he'd left on. "Yeah, I'm in here." His voice croaked and Darry wondered how long he'd been asleep. "What time is it?"

"Seven. I just got home."

Darry opened his eyes and sat up. "Yeah? What'd you do?"

"I was out with Terry and Douglas."

"Douglas? Bryon Douglas?" Pony nodded.

"I always liked Douglas, even if he was kinda stuck up... Oh, hey, want to see if there's a movie playing later tonight? Check the paper or something?"

Pony grinned. Damn, he looked like Soda just then. "Like a date or something?"

Darry threw a pillow at his brother. "Shut up." He grinned.

Pony laughed and threw the pillow back at Darry, then darted out of the room before Darry could react. "Oh, you're dead meat, kid!" He heard laughter from the other room, picked up the pillow, and ran after his brother. Apparently, though, his brother had been much more prepared, because as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he saw Pony brandishing the handle of a wooden spoon toward him.

_"En garde!"_

"Oh, Christ." Darry laughed and jumped out of the way to avoid being prodded with his brother's weapon of choice. He reached blindly behind him and grabbed the nearest kitchen wear. It turned out to be a cutting board, which he held as a shield in his right hand, and hit with the pillow in his left.

"Oh, you cheater," Pony shouted.

"You didn't call no shields."

The fight lasted for a good half hour, and when the two finally finished at a draw, they collapsed on the couch, both laughing and breathless.

"I really gotta cut back on how much I smoke. It's amazing I can even run still."

"You sound like an old man, kiddo."

Pony chuckled. "Well, I guess I'm mature for my age."

"Right." He reached over for a newspaper, which, during the fight, had been discarded and stepped on and now lay in tatters on the ground. He opened it and flipped to the entertainment section. "Want to see the 8:30 for the new James Bond?"

"Sure. What other movies are out?"

"Um...Willie Wonka, Harold and Maude, and, uh, something called A Clockwork Orange."

"As much as I'm tempted to watch Gene Wilder dance around in a kid's movie, let's go with James Bond."

"Good choice," Darry said. "But we're driving. No way am I going back out in that goddamned heat."

"'Course. It's terrible outside."

Darry lifted himself off the couch and grabbed a pack of cigarettes and the keys.

"You smoke? I never knew that."

"Occasionally. Today was my first time in a year or so. I just did it at parties to show off in high school." He made his way toward the door and clapped Pony on the back. "Today was the first time for a few things." _And hopefully tomorrow will be better..._ Darry thought to himself. Hopefully.

_Oh, I know we've come a long way,  
We're changing day to day,  
But tell me, where do the children play?_


	2. Chapter Two: Darry Talks to Tim

**_A/n_:** Hi, everyone. Thanks for the fantastic reviews on chapter one! :) I don't own the song_ Lover, You Should've Come Over,_ written and performed by the late Jeff Buckley, nor do I own, or am I making any profit on S.E. Hinton's book, _The Outsiders_. Enjoy! :) Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.

A huge thanks to my beta, Hahukum Konn.

* * *

_Too young to hold on /And too old to just break free and run /Sometimes a man gets carried away_

Darry's first thoughts as he rolled out of bed were _Jesus, it's early._ It was quarter past six, and the sun was hardly up. He wished the "just ten more minutes" would work, but he'd already been late twice this month, and, well, he didn't know if he could afford a slip up, especially with people being laid off, both at the construction company and the warehouse. This damn recession would be the end of him. Nobody wanted a brand new house when they were too busy wondering how they'd even make it to Christmas. He doubted he'd lose his job at the warehouse, but if he wasn't fired by the end of the week by Mr. McClean, his overseer at the construction site, then he'd be pretty shocked. The man had taken pity on him when his parents first died, but Darry soon learned that it was a dog-eat-dog world out there, and despite Mr. McClean liking him, that would never stop him from dropping him as quick as he'd hired him.

Darry stumbled out of his bed and wiped the sleep out of his eyes, tripping over discarded clothes as he did so. All of the shirts on the floor were dirty, and he couldn't remember if he'd bothered to do the laundry last night. Sighing, he reached blindly in his dresser and pulled out a clean shirt and underwear.

He felt like a damned machine. Every morning was the same: wake up, get dressed, grab something to eat, go to work. He'd been doing that for almost five years now, and he should have been used to it, but he wasn't. He'd always hated waking up early.

Fully clothed and still half asleep, Darry stumbled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one awake. Pony was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at something in his lap.

"Hey, what're you doing up this early?"

Pony looked up and to Darry's shock, he was sporting a busted lip and a black eye.

"Holy shit, what happened?"

"I got into a fight," Pony said, looking down again.

"Well, who the hell with?" Darry was close to shouting. He was gonna bust some kid's head for doing this.

"No one."

"So you just rolled out of bed, hit your eye, and busted your lip, plus managed to bruise your cheek some on the way down? I know you're clumsy, but c'mon. Who did this?"

Pony looked down at whatever was in his lap and said nothing. Darry came closer, taking Pony's face in his own hands. "I'm not pissed at you or anything, believe me. I'm just ... shocked. Who did you fight with?"

Pony took a deep breath, and before he could speak, something meowed. For a moment Darry thought his brother had made the noise, but he quickly realized that the creature sitting in his brother's lap was a kitten. Pony looked up from the cat to his brother and gave as much of a smile as he seemed able to give.

"This is how I got in the fight..."

"The cat punched you?" Darry took a seat, taking the half eaten bowl of cereal from his brother.

"Well, no. I got in a scrap with Curly Shepard last night."

Darry blinked. "When did you even go out last night?"

"Around midnight or so, a little after you fell asleep. I was just gonna go out with Cathy and catch some action or something. We ran into Shepard, though, and he started badmouthing me and Cathy. I just ignored him, because, well, it's Curly, and I don't take anything he says seriously, but when he started coming up and grabbing Cathy I pushed him away. I thought he got the message, 'cause he left and I dropped Cathy off at her place." Pony reached down and scratched the kitten's ear and then yawned. "Well, I started walking back when I see this guy," he gestured to the kitten. "Curly was in the same place we left him, I guess waiting for someone or something. But he was kicking at the poor thing, and I guess I was really just pissed at Shepard still. So I just cussed at him, and then we got in a fight."

"I'm guessing you didn't win?" Darry asked, still starting at his brother's lip.

"I dunno or care who won. I had Curly in a pretty good headlock, and I got him in the gut a few times, but he got me back just as bad."

"Well, hopefully you at least bruised him a little. I might talk to Tim about that."

"What's the point?"

"'Cause I know Tim, and I know Curly. With Tim I've got a fair fight, and I know Curly will do anything Tim tells 'im to."

"It's only happened once, Dar. It's fine."

Darry sighed. It was too early for this bullshit, and right now he was just pissed that Curly Shepard was still doing shit like that and hiding behind his big brother when the big boys came for him. The kid was a coward, plain and simple. "I'm gonna talk to Shepard at least."

"Fine."

Darry got up and stretched, hoping to be able to grab a cup of coffee at the site, even if it did taste like shit.

"Can we keep the cat, Dar?"

"I don't see why not. It's a stray, though, so we should probably see if it's got any diseases. I think Two-Bit's mom knows some animal doctor. We can take it to them."

"I can pay for it, if you need me to. I've got money from working at the grocery."

"Sure," Darry yawned. "But I gotta get going. See you. Put some ice over your eye...it'll make the swelling go down."

Darry walked out the door and shivered. The sun was just beginning to rise, and it was still chilly out. He made his way to the car and began the short drive to his site. He wished it wasn't so damned short, so he could have time to think. He could hardly ever think with all the noise of construction and cars honking. He'd do anything to be out in the middle of nowhere right now, just so long as he didn't have to hear or listen to anyone.

Within what seemed like seconds, Darry was at the site, standing in line for the same crappy coffee he had every morning. Same old, same old. For the next few hours he'd do the same thing he did everyday. He remembered a time when he was a kid, and he was terrified of heights. How long ago had that been?

* * *

_Darry looked up at his father. He didn't seem that high up. Heck, he could do that. "Can I help you, Daddy?"_

_His father looked down and smiled. "Sure, kiddo." He made his was to the edge of the roof, toward the ladder. Darry climbed up, grinning at his father with every step he took. He was doing it! Heights weren't so bad after all. He felt his father hoist him up once he was at the top step. Once he was steady on his own feet, Darrel Sr. let go and walked to the center of the roof, where he was busy fixing a leak._

_"Here, Darry, I'll show you how to__ re-shingle the roof."_

_He made his way to his father, and about half way there, Darry looked down. Oh, God, he was high up. He swallowed hard, trying not to make a fuss, but everything seemed to wobble now, like the house was unsteady. "Dad, can I go down?"_

_His father looked over, questioning. "Sure. What's wrong?" He got up and walked his son back to the ladder, helping him down. When they were on the ground, Darry wrapped his arms round his father's waist and began to sob. Darrel Sr. looked shocked at his young son's sudden outburst and bent down, wrapping his arms around the boy. "C'mon, kiddo. You're okay. Why're ya crying, anyway? Ain't nothing up there that'll hurt you."  
_  
_ Darry wiped his tears from his eyes and looked up at his father. "It's high up there."_

_"On the roof? Was that what scared you?" The man chuckled lightly and helped his son up. "You're safe with me, you know that, kiddo."_

_Darry nodded, but kept his eyes glued to the ground. He felt his father put his hand under his chin, forcing him to look up._

_"You know that, don't you? Nothing can hurt you up there or down here. I won't let them. You know that?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"Good. Now how about some football?"_

_Darry grinned. "Can Sodapop and Steve play with us?"_

_"Of course."_

_"What about Pony?"_

_"No, I think Pony's too young. He might get hurt._"

_Darry trotted after his father and grinned. He had nothing to fear.

* * *

_

"Holy shit!"

Darry snapped out of his daydream and looked to where the voice was coming from. Jimmy's leg seemed to have fallen through the roof, and, had he not been worried about whether or not Jimmy was okay, he would have laughed. It looked like something straight out of a cartoon.

"Jesus Christ, are you okay?"

"Do I fucking look okay?" Jimmy said.

"Well, no." Thompson had made his way over to the scene, and was now trying to restrain a grin.

"Ah, fuck you, Pete. Help me up. And Curtis, find someone to go down and tell the damn lady that her damn roof caved." A few more guys had gathered around to help Jimmy up, and Darry turned away to go find the owner of the house. Behind him, he heard Jimmy curse and someone say "Looks like it's broken, man".

_Poor guy,_ Darry thought._ Glad it ain't me._ He knocked on the front door, and a after a moment, someone answered.

"Hello?" The girl who answered looked young, probably about sixteen or so and looked slightly annoyed.

"Hi, I'm Darrel." The girl raised her eyebrow as if to ask why she should care who he was. "Um, I just wanted to tell you --"

The girl sighed and cut him off. "You're letting all the cold air out."

Darry was perplexed. All he wanted to do was tell her some one had fallen through her freaking roof.

Another voice echoed down the hall. "Jackie? Who's at the door?"

The young girl called over her shoulder, "I don't know. It's one of the construction guys. I don't know what he wants, but he's letting the cold air out of the house."

This was just ridiculous. Honestly, what crawled up her ass? He heard footsteps come closer, and the girl, Jackie, stepped out of the way.

"You don't have to be such a brat, Jack." The other girl looked closer to Darry's age. "Can I help you?"

"Erm, well, I just came down to tell you that a small section of the roof caved, which probably means we'll be around longer than intended."

"Great," came Jackie's voice. He couldn't help but smile a little when the other girl turned to smack her on the shoulder.

"Okay, thanks for telling us, umm. Sorry, what's your name?"

"Darrel Curtis." Darry extended a hand to shake, and took the girl's.

"I'm Linda Mitchell. Ms. Cold over there is my cousin, Jackie. Sorry about her."

"Hey!" Jackie yelled._  
_  
He smiled and chuckled a little. "No problem. I'm sure hearing all this noise must be kinda annoying."

"Well, I hope to see you again, Darrel Curtis. Thanks." Linda smiled and closed the door, and Darry was left hanging on to the girl's smile.

* * *

Usually, Darry avoided this side of town, by the river. North St. Louis wasn't a fantastic side of town, but it wasn't bad, either. This part of town just didn't make him feel so hot, though he'd never let on to it. Hopefully, though, Shepard would be home and he'd only have to talk for a moment or so. Tim was a reasonable guy, and last time they'd spoken, they were still on good terms. Last time, though, had been about four years ago when Steve and Soda had fought with some of Tim's gang. Had he not stepped in, he worried that Tim would have pounded the idiot's head in.

Darry rang the doorbell and waited. Inside he heard probably one of the most grating voices he'd ever had the displeasure of listening to. It was high and shrieking, and from what he gathered, the owner of the voice was throwing things.

"Angel, calm the fuck down and stop fucking yellin."

"Fuck." -- something glass hit the wall -- "you, Tim!" Again, something hit the wall, footsteps pounded, and a door slammed hard enough to shake the frail screen door.

The door opened and, sure enough, there was Tim, smoking and looking calm as ever, if not slightly pissed. "Hey, Curtis. What can I do for ya?"

Darry raised his eyebrow. "Not get me killed, for one."

"No worries. The beast is back in her lair," he said, pointing somewhere he couldn't see, probably Angela's room. "How do you do that, the eyebrow thing. I never could figure out how Dal did it."

Darry smiled. "Just picked it up I guess."

Tim nodded. "So, what brings you so far from home?" Tim stepped outside, into the cool night air, and sat on the front step.

"Actually, well it's my brother. Or, more so yours."

This didn't seem to surprise Tim, as Darry saw when he did nothing but roll his eyes. "Figures. He came home with a nasty bruise on his cheek and gut. What'd he do?"

Darry couldn't help but smile a little, knowing his brother had shown Curly he'd put up a fight. "I guess Pony and Curly got into some scrap. Gave Pone a busted lip and a nice shiner on his eye and cheek."

Tim shook his head. "Who won?"

"I think it was a draw, but I want to make sure your brother don't go picking fights with Pony, 'cause we don't like that, especially when we ain't done nothing to y'all." Darry rose to his full height, and Tim stood too, matching Darry.

"Sure thing, Curtis. I always liked you and your brothers. Got a good gang." Tim paused for a moment and took a drag on his cigarette. He looked thoughtfully at Darry, and said, "I'll tell Curly to lay off, but you gotta do me a favor."


	3. Chapter Three: Tim Strikes a Deal

A/n: Thanks for the reviews so far, guys! They're really appreciated. I thrive on feedback. :)

I do not own _The Outsiders, _written by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own the song _Swamp_, written by David Byrne and performed by Talking Heads. Enjoy! :)

* * *

_And when your hands get dirty/Nobody knows you at all/Don't have a window to slip out of_

Any favor that Tim Shepard asked for couldn't be good, could it? Darry didn't quite like the way Tim said it so casually, either, like it was no big deal. Whatever he wanted from Darry, he wasn't sure he wanted in on it.

"What kind of favor, Tim?"

Tim smiled. "Step into my office, Curtis." Tim opened the door, nodding to Darry to go inside. He'd only been inside the Shepards' house once, and that was to pick up a drunken Ponyboy after he'd gone out with Curly. There was nothing spectacular about the inside of the house, except remnants of Angela's fit were on the ground, broken into tiny little shards. Darry followed Tim to the kitchen, where Tim offered him a drink. "This ain't exactly my office; we'll get to my room in a minute. Beer?"

Darry took the bottle cautiously and opened it with the church key Tim handed him.

"Sorry about the Antichrist being here and all. Her husband ain't home, and well, with all the brats runnin' 'round her place, I'd go crazy too."

"I can't say that her fit surprised me, so it's no problem," Darry said. Tim laughed lightly. "So, Shepard, what do you want me to do exactly?" Despite Tim's hospitality, Darry was there for one reason, and getting dragged into Tim's wheeling and dealing wasn't on his exact agenda.

"Come upstairs and I'll show you." Tim finished pouring himself a glass of vodka and led Darry to his room. The decor was, well, only something he'd expect from Tim Shepard. The room was absolutely blank, except for a pinup of Goldie Hawn in the far corner, across from his bed. There were no curtains on the windows. Instead, Tim had draped black sheets over the windows to keep the light out (and probably hide whatever he did in there from onlookers). Otherwise, the room was completely bare, except for a bed, a desk, a dresser, a few extra chairs, and a record player.

"Nice place you've got here," Darry commented.

"Thanks. I'm thinkin' of getting a decorator or something to ritz it up," Tim replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Darry smiled and sat down on one of the empty chairs. He watched Tim closely. He liked Shepard, but that didn't mean he let his guard down around the guy. Tim walked over to his closet, which had so much crap lying around that Darry was shocked Tim could stand it. Tim seemed to be searching for something in the very back of the closet. He finally found it, and pulled it over to Darry.

"I'm guessing you know what's in here?"

Darry knew, all right. He knew that smell all too well from Steve, from parties he went to in high school, and from Pony coming home that night reeking of it. "I can only guess. What do you want me to do with a bag of dope that big?"

"I need you to drop it off with me."

"Where at?"

Tim smiled slyly, making the scar on his cheek look so much more menacing. "This is where you come in, Curtis. I'm dropping it off at the old warehouse, the one that used to be the parts plant. You know it?"

"Yeah, of course I know it. My dad used to work there."

"Perfect. I figured you'd know that place. Well, I don't like having a bag of weed this big, you know? Makes me kinda nervous, 'cause you never know who Curly and Angel are bringin' home. So, I know some fellas who want to ship this off somewhere, New York, probably, and I'll be done with it. No hassle, no cops, no nothing."

Darry looked skeptically at Tim. "That's just it. I don't want to even consider cops being on my case. If we got busted... Jesus Christ, that's at least a pound in there."

Tim sighed. "Look, I'm doing you a favor. I can make sure no one fights with you, your brother, even Randle and Mathews if you'd like. All I'm asking is for you to drive me up there and make sure no one fights with me. I can even give you a gun if it makes you feel better. I know you used to hunt; your buddy Steve once told me you had a real good shot."

Darry said nothing, but only stared at Tim's blank walls. He typically had nothing to worry about with Pony. He was a smart kid, and the fight with Curly was a seldom thing. But he did feel some strange obligation to help Steve. He knew he was going back to school, but he also knew from other friends that just leaving drugs was nearly impossible. There would always be someone looking for someone like Steve, who could turn back with the snap of a finger. "You know other dealers in town, don't you?"

"Almost all of them."

"Keep them away from Steve. I'll do this for you if you keep them away from him."

Tim grinned, his ugly scar spreading across his face. "Good fella. I'll call you tomorrow and let you in on everything, where we're meeting them, what time, and so on."

"Hang on, who is this guy we're going to?"

Tim chuckled. "Do you remember a guy who went to East Central High by the name of Johnny Smith?"

"I'm sure there were a hundred Johnny Smiths there."

"Yeah, but this guy, everyone knew, 'cause he was always goin' on about how he wanted to change his name and such. You know, something more interesting than Smith."

Darry did vaguely remember hearing of this guy, but he wasn't quite sure.

"Well, anyway, once he turned eighteen, he changed his name to Lennie van Zant, which I guess he thought was much better than Johnny Smith."

"Sounds like a nut," Darry muttered.

"Well, he is a little bit. But he's trustworthy. I've known him for a couple years now. Used to buddy around with Buck and those guys."

Darry sighed. "All right, Tim, but if you back out on me or fuck me over, I swear to God, you're fucking dead."

Tim smiled. "I always wondered why Dallas hung around with you. Y'all seemed too 'clean cut' for him to hang with. I'll take your word, Curtis, if you take mine. You don't flake on me, I don't fuck you up." Tim extended his hand to shake, and Darry gripped it as hard as he could. When they let go, he noticed with some satisfaction that Tim's hand was red from his death grip.

Darry let himself out of the Shepards' place, making sure to steer clear of Angela. He dug his hands into his pockets and tried to clear his head. He wasn't even sure what kind of deal he'd just made... but he knew he didn't like it. Or, more so, he didn't like Shepard too much at the moment.

He got into his truck and made the short drive home. It was already nine o'clock, and all Darry wanted to do was to get home and watch TV. He'd like nothing more than to block everyone else out and just have some time to himself.

Today had been another long day. He was pretty sure the next few days would _all_ be long ones.

* * *

Sunday. What a fantastic word, and even more so, a fantastic day. Sunday meant no work, no worries, just the day to himself. It was already ten and Darry had done nothing yet. It felt great to be able to do nothing and not worry about whether or not someone was watching. Today, the day was his and his alone.

Darry turned on the radio and began to make breakfast for himself and Pony. The kitten that Pony had found a few days before was sitting on the kitchen table, staring at Darry with big eyes. He made a few extra eggs and sat down at the table, putting a small plate in front of the kitten. He guessed animals liked anything, so why not eggs? It purred loudly, and Darry assumed that the cat was content. He scratched it behind the ear and smiled.

"I don't even know if you're a he or she," he muttered to the cat.

"It's a girl. I took her to the vet when I got off work yesterday."

Pony walked into the kitchen and grabbed a plate of food, joining his brother at the table. "Nice clothes." Darry noted that Pony was only in a pair of jeans. "Did you forget your shirt again?"

"No, I was thinking I could go for a new thing, maybe start a trend." He smiled and began eating.

"Got any plans for the day?"

"None, except to avoid Peg McIntrye."

"She didn't take the breakup well?"

"Darry, she threw her shoes at me."

Darry snorted.

"Her high heels, man. They almost killed me."

"Sounds crazy."

Pony sighed. "I knew I was better off with Cathy. I don't know if she wants to stay friends, though."

"Well, you can try and see if she still wants to go out... or you can not get yourself caught cheating next time."

Pony blushed. Personally, Darry had always stuck to one girl at a time. He'd seen too many guys end up on the receiving end of a pissed off ex-girlfriend's wrath. He remembered Paul Holden's girlfriend in particular after they broke up. He couldn't tell who was more of a wreck by the end of the breakup, Marge or Paul. From what he later heard, Paul never cheated again.

"Well, I guess I'm gonna go out. I'm gonna get some more food since we're running low." Darry got up, and then reluctantly said, "Oh, and I, uh, got cut back at the warehouse."

Pony looked at Darry with his mouth hanging open. He swallowed his food and finally said, "How much did you get cut back?"

"Well, uh... permanently. I got a call last night when I got home. I wish they'd have just told me at work. But it's fine. I've got last month's pay, and I'm still getting the pay for August. And I've put away some money for the both of us. We'll figure it all out; things just might be a little slow for a while."

Pony frowned. "I can come home weekends when I go back to school and work weekends at the grocery."

Darry shook his head stubbornly. "It's fine. We've got enough money. Plus, now I can go to the night school full time. I'll be back in a couple hours. See you."

"C'mon, let me help out a little. At least I'll come home weekends. It's no big deal, really. And I can get a job off campus to help out, too."

Darry sighed. He knew Pony wouldn't stop persisting. "You're eighteen... do whatever you want."

Before Ponyboy could respond, Darry stepped out the front door. He only hoped that Pony didn't worry too much.

He began to walk down the street, going nowhere in particular. At this point he didn't even want to go to the grocery. He had nothing to worry about, honestly. The extra job allowed them to live comfortably, but it wasn't a necessity. With Soda's money from his service in Vietnam, and money from the construction site, the two would be okay for the next year. Maybe Darry would have to put off night school for another year, but that was all right with him, so long as they weren't out on the streets.

He remembered when his parents had died. Soda insisted on dropping out and it pissed Darry off beyond belief.

_"Dar, what use is it, anyway? The only thing I'll ever be good at is cars and chicks. We both know that. There ain't no use in me finishing school."_

_Darry's fist pounded on the table. "No use? You can go to college, Soda. You can make something of yourself."_

_"How?" His brother persisted. Soda's voice rose, his face no longer in the normal grin; he now looked angry and dangerous. "I'm failing almost all of my classes. You heard Mom and Dad, how they used to try and make me study. Hell, you've seen my report cards. How do I make anything from that?"_

_Darry was too tired for this. He sat down and ran a hand through his hair, glaring at Soda. "Do whatever you want."_

Soda had done whatever he wanted, that was for sure. He'd dropped out of high school, and all that got him was more problems with social services. He'd worked at the DX, and all that got them was a tiny bit of extra cash. Hardly any, really. He went to enlist in Vietnam... look where that got him. How and why did he get stuck raising his brothers at twenty?

How had any of this happened? That was a stupid question. He knew how it'd happened. It happened with a shitfaced drunk driver fishtailing into his parents' car on an icy road. It happened just like that, two people dead, one in critical condition, which later stabilized. Why did that fucker survive? Someone once asked him what he'd say if he ever met God. That would be it. "Why did that fucker live and they died?"

That was a valid question, wasn't it? He had the right to be angry still, didn't he? Darry sighed and kicked at the pebbles below his feet. He was staring so intently at the ground that he suddenly tripped over something. He looked down and noticed that he hadn't tripped over a something, but rather a someone sitting in a lawn chair.

"Oh, jeeze, sorry." He regained his balance and tried to make sure the someone he'd almost fallen on top of was okay.

The person he'd fallen on seemed perfectly okay, just extremely pissed off. The girl raised her sunglasses and glared.

Oh, Christ. Darry realized suddenly that this was the same girl from the construction site.

"You again? God, do you ever not bother people?"

Darry began to apologize when the girl next to her, whom he realized to be Linda, spoke up.

"Jackie, are you ever not such a brat? Excuse me, but really." Linda looked away from her cousin and smiled at Darry. "Darrel, right?"

Darry smiled. "Yeah. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good. Just sitting out. It's a beautiful day out, and I thought I'd spend my last day at this house just sunbathing."

Darry felt his heart sink. Linda had an Oklahoma drawl, but she was moving? Or was she just visiting Jackie and her family?

"Lucky you," Jackie said. She didn't even attempt to hide her sarcasm.

"Well, you'll be happy to know I'll be just down the road on King Street, so I can come by and visit any time."

"King Street?" Darry smiled. "No kidding, that's right near my house."

"Where do you live?"

"Right over on North St. Louis. I was just walking to the grocery, actually."

"Oh, wow, that's only a block away." Linda looked genuinely happy to hear this.

Darry cocked his eyebrow. "Well, I'm more than happy to help, if you'd like it."

Linda grinned. "A few extra hands around the house would be fantastic. I'm moving in tomorrow. How about, say, Wednesday? I'll probably just need a little help moving things into their proper places."

"Sounds good to me."

"Fantastic! Would you mind coming over around, say, five o'clock?"

Darry paused. No, that time wouldn't work at all, as he'd be slaving away on the roof of the house he now stood in front of. But for now, it was perfect. He'd just have to find a way to come in to work an hour or so earlier than planned. "Sounds great."

Linda smiled. She had a nice smile. "Oh, I live on 420 King Street. See you Wednesday, Darrel."

Darry grinned and almost began to walk back home before remembering his whole purpose for going on the walk. He still needed to go to the grocery. For now, nothing really mattered. Not Tim's shady business, not his job at the warehouse, nothing. For the first time in almost five years, he felt good. He felt like things were finally looking up, even if it was just a tiny bit.


	4. Chapter Four: Win Some, Lose Some

**A/n:** I do not own, nor am I making any profit from _The Outsiders,_ written by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own the song _Help_, written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney and performed by The Beatles.

Reviews should be slowing down for a while with midterms and breaks coming up, but for now, enjoy! :)

* * *

_And now my life has changed in oh so many ways/My independence seems to vanish in the haze_

_Help me if you can, I'm feeling down/And I do appreciate you being round._

"Curtis, hurry up with that coffee. I ain't letting you leave early just to watch you dick around."

Darry bit his tongue. He wanted to tell his boss he wasn't leaving early, he was working all of his hours. For god's sake, it was six AM. He'd gotten up at a quarter to five. And for what? Just to help some chick he hardly knew move her crap around her new place. Had he not actually been looking forward to seeing Linda, Darry would have been pretty pissed. "Yes, sir," Darry said. He finished his coffee in one last swallow and shuddered. It was probably the worst coffee he'd ever tried. Funny how, after five years of it, he still couldn't stand it. There were just some things he'd never get used to, no matter how much he tried.

Dropping the cup on the ground, Darry began to get to work. With Thompson out for the next six weeks with a broken ankle, patching up the hole in the roof would take him all day. At least he wouldn't be doing the heavy lifting the rest of the guys would be doing.

For the next six hours, Darry crouched beside the hole Thompson had made. For such a skinny guy, he'd made a pretty big hole up there. It didn't bother him so much, since it at least gave him an excuse to work as slowly as he pleased. Despite the noise around him, he had time to himself that he almost never got otherwise. And something about being up there comforted him. The words his father had spoken to him years before still rang true in his head. He was safe. At least, for now he was, even if it was only in his mind.

Darry had just finished putting in the last tile when he heard his name called from below by his overseer, Mr. Pressman. Darry made his way down to the ground level to greet his boss.

"You finished patching everything up?"

"Yes, sir. I just finished."

"Curtis, you've been working for me about five or so years, right?"

"Yes, sir. Six if you count the summers I worked when I was eighteen and nineteen."

"Well, I like you, Darrel. The thing is, though, times are rough. Nobody wants to build houses when they're too busy worrying about what Nixon's doing over in Washington and everything.

Darry's heart sank. This was it, the final blow below the belt.

"I suppose you know where I'm getting at. I don't want to have to do that. I understand what you've been through, honestly. I had a brother die over in Korea; It ain't in my nature to do something like putting you and your brother out like that."

Darry wanted to tell Mr. Pressman that he'd be fine, everything would be okay, even if he was out of the job, but they both knew that would be an utter lie. Before Darry could say anything, someone cleared their throat behind the two men.

"My father wanted me to ask you if you finally got around to fixing the hole in the roof. He says we're not paying you to sit around all day."

Darry restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Jackie.

Mr. Pressman seemed to not mind. He was probably used to families like this one. "Yes, ma'am. Darrel here just finished with it." He clapped Darry on the back.

"Great, thanks," Jackie said. She had the same attitude Darry assumed she always had, except maybe around her father, and turned away.

"I'll tell you," Pressman muttered. "That girl's a piece of work. Well, Darrel, I'll cut to the chase, because I think you've got it already. I'm going to have to lay you off, but like I said, I hate to see you without a job. Now, my brother in-law happens to have worked in the same auto parts plant your father worked in. I talked to him, and he's willing to start you off as manager of his hardware store. I can't guarantee that it's as good of pay as you're getting here, but it's better than nothing. I'll give you the rest of the month's pay since it's almost September, but you ain't gotta come in again."

Darry made an attempt to say something, but no words came out. "I'll give you Milo's address. It's right over on Main Street, between the Shell Station and the Safeway. You know where that is?"

Darry nodded. What else could he do? He accepted his fate and sighed.

"I ain't trying to put you out or nothing, but you gotta do what's best for the business. You can pack up your things and go for now. I'm sorry to do this to you."

Darry only nodded and walked off without saying goodbye. Things were turning out terribly, as he'd almost learned to expect. Didn't they always? He supposed he'd stop into the store on his way back home, tell the guy there that Harry Pressman had sent him.

Things just seemed too uncertain all of the sudden. He had no idea where things would be going, including money. There was extra money in the bank, yes. After the accident, there was a life insurance settlement of $20,000, as well as an out of court settlement for $10,000, not to mention the social security income. But it was all one-shot money, not meant to be spent on a whim. Still, though, as the stream of income waned, Darry knew things would slow down considerably. Things like buying beer and new records would now be more difficult than ever. And the new color TV? The likelihood of that was almost laughable now.

Darry knew the age old saying. _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times._ Now someone just needed to tell him anything good was happening, then maybe he'd stop being such a pessimistic asshole. For now, though, it was merely the worst of times.

* * *

"Yeah, Harry told me you might be coming by. Right shame, getting fired and all. I just fired my old manager, so when Harry told me he'd send you by, I was much obliged. Says you got good work ethic. That true?"

"Yes, sir," Darry said. Harry Pressman's brother in-law, Milo Watts, was pacing back and forth, sizing Darry up. Watts himself was a small guy who Darry easily towered over.

Watts smiled. "'Sir'. I like that. I like you already, Curtis. I can tell you ain't some slacker. I'm guessing you know your way 'round a toolbox pretty good, right?"

"Yes, sir." There wasn't much else to say. It seemed that Milo Watts was an easy enough man to talk to. No conversation, just "Yes, sir", "no, sir."

"Good. Now, I'll show you how to make keys and sharpen knives. The rest I think you can handle." Darry followed Milo to the back of the shop, taking in his surroundings as he did so. The shop was small, but not too cramped. It looked pretty well supplied, too, which he was grateful.

Mr. Watt straightened himself up. "I'll be here for the next week or so to explain this all to you, but for now, all you need to know is that this here machine," Milo pointed to a squarish machine, which Darry wasn't even sure what to make of, "duplicates keys. You take the key you want to make a copy of and slide it right into this baby, along with the key blank. It's nothing too extraordinary, but you'll get used to it. It's easy enough to do. Now, I usually maintain the knife sharpener. We don't do much with it, except for the occasional hunting knife. If you have anyone comin' in asking for a sharpening, you coming to me, you hear?"

"Sure thing, sir."

Watt grinned. "I like you kid. I think we're gonna get along just fine. Call me Milo if you'd like, but it don't really matter much to me. You can start tomorrow. We open at eight, close at seven, except on Saturdays, then we're open from seven to eight."

"Yes sir -- er, Milo. I really appreciate it." Darry only wished his words were true. To him, all of this was charity and pity, and that angered him profoundly, though he'd never admit it to anyone.

"I'll start you off at $2 an hour. But Curtis, remember, I like you. Just 'cause I like you, don't mean I trust you. You've got to earn that."

Darry nodded once more and shook Milo's hand. The old man's grip was surprisingly strong in his own. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the guy. He was nice, of course, but as Steinbeck had once said, he's a boss first, a nice guy second. Darry knew that by now.

Darry walked out of the shop, listening to the bell atop the door chime as he opened it. That would drive him crazy.

_Goddamnit, _Darry thought. He knew he'd get sacked sooner or later, but not from two different places in the same week. Two damn good paying jobs, too. Now he was stuck working at a hardware story for hardly anything per month. Nothing was certain, and that's what frightened Darry the most. He had no idea what the future held in store for him.

* * *

When Darry got home half an hour earlier, the first thing he did was lay down and clear his head. However, even asking for something as simple as a little peace was impossible. Within ten minutes of laying down, the phone began to ring. Right in his damn ear, too. He contemplated not picking it up at all, but thought it was best to do so, just in case it was important.

"Hello?"

"Curtis?"

"Hi... who is this?"

"It's Tim. I need you to meet me at my place tonight at eleven o'clock. And don't flake, Curtis."

Before Darry could say anything, Tim hung the phone up and Darry was left only with the dial tone. Something about the urgency in Tim's voice left him feeling unsettled. What Tim said, though, left him feeling even worse. If Darry _did_ back out on Tim... he could only imagine what could happen. Yes, he and Tim were a fair match in a fight, but Darry knew Tim too well. He wouldn't fight Darry. Rather, he'd find some way to hit Darry below the belt, and that was what worried him.

Darry sighed, knowing he had no choice. He got up and wrote the time Tim asked to meet on a scrap of paper, then pocketed it. He then made his way out of the house and over to Linda's. He at least still had one thing to look forward to, even if that too was now completely insignificant in comparison to everything else around him.

Linda's apartment was a mere five minute walk from his own. He remembered a good chunk of his friends in high school living in the same area Linda had just moved to. It was a middle class neighborhood that was probably a little too close to the dumpy part of town for comfort. It was the area that, as a child, he'd wished he could live in. It might not have been part of the Soc's territory, the same people he was supposed to hate, yet dreamed of being like; it wasn't their territory, but it wasn't in his turf, either. It was, at best, a no man's land. Those in the middle had associated with both, but Darry was sure they had preferences as to with whom they were seen. He wondered if it would have mattered to Linda.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. That was kid stuff, stuff he was done with. Neither he, nor Pony, Steve, or Two-Bit had spoken of their old rivalry in at least two or threeyears, except on the few occasions in which they remembered a run-in with this or that person.

Darry stopped his train of thought. He was going too far into thoughts he'd rather not remember, people he wished he could forget.

His thoughts had carried him to Linda's, and he now found himself outside a small row of townhouses. 420 King Street was the very last house on the block.

He rang the doorbell, and found himself waiting anxiously until the door was finally opened.

A wave of relief came over Darry when he saw Linda open the door.

"Hi, Darrel! You made it." She grinned and opened the door wider, inviting him in.

"I guess I did. And it looks like you've got a lot cleaned up, too." Darry noticed that the living room he was standing in seemed in order, and, from what he could see, so did the kitchen.

"Well, my cousin Ronnie came by and helped me get most things squared away. Now I'm just working on actually putting things where they belong. I have so many records, I'm not sure what to do with them."

"Well, I'm more than happy to help with anything you need."

Linda smiled. Darry noticed that when she smiled, her eyes brightened. She had a genuine smile. "You know, you're the first person I've met here that's been real nice to me. I mean, I have plenty of acquaintances, since I'm just from Bixby, but I really haven't met too many interesting people since I moved over here."

Darry was flattered. He'd hardly exchanged more than names with Linda, and yet he was interesting to her. "There's plenty of friendly people around, but I guess they're all in hiding."

Linda smiled and said, "Well, why don't we get started on all those records?" She led him to what he assumed to be her bedroom. It seemed to be the only room in the tiny house that wasn't set up. The bed frame was propped against the wall, and the mattress sat on the floor, covered in unmade sheets.

"I can set the bed up for you, if you'd like."

Linda smiled and looked relieved. "Oh, would you? I don't mind my room the way it is, but sleeping above the ground _would _be nice."

"Well, yeah. I don't reckon why not. Looks like you've got everything set up, actually. All you need to do is get the legs and frame off the wall and actually onto the floor. Whoever set it up for you just didn't seem to want to do the heavy lifting part."

Linda rolled her eyes. "Leave it to Ronnie to do something so half-asse-" Linda stopped short and blushed. "Well, I mean he just didn't do a great job or anything."

Darry smiled at her. "He did do a pretty half-ass job. But I should get it done in no time." Darry walked toward the bed and examined it. It was a pretty big bed, and with a brass frame. "When you see your cousin, ask him how in God's name he managed to assemble the bed, then turn it on its side. This might need more help than I thought."

"I can help if you'd like, but I can't guarantee that if I help, you'll come out injury free."

"Well, it's not too hard, we're just going to have to lift it as slowly as possible. It looks like a heavy bed."

Darry stood on one side of the bed, while Linda stood on the other. They both took their places on either side (Darry was slightly amused to see that Linda had to stand on her toes to reach) and very slowly pulled the bed down to ground level. Finally, after almost being crushed by the bed several times and ripping the carpet, they managed to get the bed onto the ground in one piece.

"Well," Linda said, catching her breath, that was a lot harder than it should have been, wasn't it?"

Darry laughed. "I've moved a lot of heavy things before, but that's the first time I can say a brass bed has almost fallen on top of me."

Linda grinned. "Well, the mattress is feather, so I think I can risk it falling on me."

"Well, if there's anything else you need help with, I'm much obliged."

"Well, we can still go through the tons of records I've got lying around. All I really need help with right now is to get them onto shelves in my living room. I've got them divided into three sections: Classical music, jazz, and everything in between. I guess all I have left to do is alphabetize them."

"Sure, I can help with that." Darry imagined she probably had a decent collection size. However, he found that he was sorely mistaken. When he walked into the kitchen, where Linda had stored the records, he was shocked to see that there were at least several hundred. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"How do you get this much music?"

Linda giggled. "Well, I just listen a lot. I like listening to anything. Music, people, whatever. It's nice to have people to talk to."

Darry nodded in agreement. He wasn't even sure if he _did_ agree, but the way she said it sounded nice.

"Well, I guess we should get down to work." She sat down and Darry followed suit, taking a large stack of vinyls. "Do you listen to music, Darrel?"

"I can't call myself an avid listener. I listen to the radio, and I usually like what's on there. I always liked Jimi Hendrix and Cream."

"Oh, I just love Jimi Hendrix. There's been talk that he'll be playing a few concerts around here soon." For the next two hours, the two sat talking. Darry learned more about music than he believed had ever been able to know. Linda told him about her past and the places she'd been to that he greatly envied. Unlike some of the other girls Darry had met, Linda seemed to actually have, and use, a brain.

When the records were finally organized, Linda grinned. "You know, Darrel, I've told you so much about me. What about you?"

"Well, there ain't too much I can say that'll be half as interesting as having lived all over the country. I've been here in Tulsa my whole life, I 'spose."

"I've always envied that. It must be nice, not moving around from place to place."

"It's boring spending your life in the same place, though. I'd at least like to see New York City." Suddenly, Darry yawned. "Er, excuse me. It's been a long day."

"Oh, no, not at all. I shouldn't keep you so long. It's already eight."

"Well, I enjoyed myself tonight," Darry said. He meant it, too. It was one of the first relaxing nights he'd had in a long time, despite how shitty the rest of the day had been.

"Well, why don't we do this again?"

"Sure, why not? We can talk a bit more. And, I'm not much of a cook, but I'd be happy to have you over for dinner." Darry suddenly felt his ears burn red. He hadn't had a date in months. What if this turned out horribly?

"I'd love that, Darrel."

"Well, then how about Friday night? I get off work at seven now. So eight?"

"It's a date."

A date. Darry liked how that sounded. He felt as if, even if only for a moment, all of the worries he'd had ealier were so much less significant. He liked the idea of having _some_ normalcy back, after all these years.


	5. Chapter Five: Dirty Deeds

**_A/n: _**I do not own_ The Outsiders, _written by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own the song Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, written by Angust Young, Malcolm Young, and Bon Scott, and performed by AC/DC.

* * *

_Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap._

Darry lay sprawled out on the couch, while Two-Bit sat in the recliner across from him.

"So, you're telling me this has all happened... in a day?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Did you at least get yourself laid?"

Darry grinned and laughed. "It wasn't even a date. Friday ain't even a date. I hardly know her, I just like being around her. Better than half the girls I dated in high school."

Two-Bit rolled his eyes. "Anyone's better than a high school chick, man."

"That's coming from the guy who loved high school, too." Darry said with a chuckle.

The two sat in silence, and Darry watched the clock carefully. It was ten-fifteen, which gave Darry about forty minutes to gather his thoughts. He was having second thoughts about Tim's deal, but kept on getting brought back to the waking reality of what might happen if he backed out. What would Tim do? Slashing his tires was a pastime of Tim's; slashing people... Darry wondered if Tim had that in him.

He knew Tim well enough, because they weren't all that different. Tim was just as protective of his siblings as Darry was of his. Darry remembered beating the shit out of a kid for calling Sodapop some nasty name when he was sixteen. He could hardly remember the name, but he _did_ remember that there were no problems with him afterward.

According to Ponyboy, Tim had jumped Bryon Douglas for cutting his little sister's hair. He wondered if it had been out of a genuine anger for what Bryon had done, or just an urge to pick a fight. Darry could understand that. He'd done that plenty of times. Going without action made him antsy, and he just enjoyed fights.

"You're going to go through with it, ain't you."

Darry looked up at Two-Bit. What he said was a statement, not a question. "I have no choice. I've gotta."

Two-Bit nodded slowly. He understood that. "I'll come with ya if you need the help."

"No, I think I have to do this on my own. I don't know how pleased Shepard would be if I brought a friend along for the ride."

Two-Bit did his best to look offended. "Not even yours truly?" He furrowed his brow. "Why I oughtta sock that sonofabitch. What have you got that I don't?"

"Balls, for one," Darry said, laughing at Two-Bit's offended look.

"Oh, that's it, Curtis. You're in dangerous territory now." Two-Bit stood, lifting his fists into a fighting stance and threw a few punches toward Darry. When all Darry did was kick Two-Bit away, he hitched up his pants and glared. "So, that's how you want it,huh?" Two-Bit continued pestering Darry. Finally, Darry got up from his place on the couch and, with almost no effort, pushed Two-Bit onto the ground.

Two-Bit grinned at him from the ground. "There, don't you feel better?"

"I felt fine until you started punchin' me."

That didn't seem to phase Two-Bit at all. Instead, he got back up and sat down next to Darry, putting an arm over his shoulder. "You're downright miserable, ain't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"I'm goin with you." Two-Bit had a hint of certainty that Darry almost never heard. "I mean it. If I come with you, it'll be three against however many other guys. If a fight happens, there's a better chance that nothing will go too wrong. And besides, I've always wanted to drive an escape car."

Dary laughed. "I knew that would be one of your reasons."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ predictable!" After a moment, Two-Bit's faux offense gave way to a concerned look. "Did Tim say anything about weapons?"

"Well, yeah, he said he'd bring me a gun, but I don't like that idea too much. I mean, I'm no pacifist, but I just don't like shooting at anyone unless I really got to. And, I mean, how much can someone who legally changed their name to Lennie van Zant do?"

Two-Bit's eyes lit up. "Wait, Lennie van Zant as in Johnny Smith?"

Darry nodded.

"Oh, you've got to let me come now. This guy's such a nut, it's great."

"He's a nut, but it's great? Explain that to me."

"I mean nuts in the good way. He's harmless. I mean, you don't want on his bad side or nothing, but I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

Darry furrowed his brow. "What happens on his bad side?"

"Well, think about it this way," Two-Bit said. "Tim might beat you up real bad and then let it, you know, like a warning type. Lennie'll warn you, beat you up real bad, and make sure everyone knows what happened. He holds grudges and kind of plays with the people he screws with. Mentally, you know?"

Darry sighed. "That's what you call harmless?"

"Well, in essence, he is. It's the guys behind him that make him powerful, just like any bully. He's nothing without them. They're the ones who he sends to screw people over and such. I suspect the only reason they like Lennie is because he pays them real well. If he ever lost it all, they'd turn on him in a minute."

Darry imagined they were all like a pack of dogs, wild and hungry, circling around van Zant. It sounded like the gangs in New York that Dally used to tell them about; quid pro quo. All Darry had wanted was a nice day to himself to relax. Instead he was stuck delivering a package of contraband drugs to Mr. Crazy and his gang of wild animals.

"Hey," Two-Bit dug into his pocket. He pulled out a long silver butterfly knife. "Got it on the five finger discount. Want to use it?"

"Sure. I'd like it better than the gun for sure. Guns make me feel nervous, if you want to know the truth."

Two-Bit nodded. "I can get that. It's almost time, though. Should we go?"

Darry sighed. _No. No, we shouldn't go. This is a terrible idea, and I don't trust Tim any further than I can throw the bastard._ "Let's go."

"We'll use my car. It might not look good, but Steve fixed the engine up. Runs like new."

"I'd just as soon say that about your grandmother."

"She's been dead for sixteen years now," Two-Bit said.

"My point exactly." Darry chuckled and got into the passenger seat of Two-Bit's old Plymouth. If Steve said it ran like new, then Darry was terrified to find out just what "new" meant.

"To Timothy's!" Two-Bit shouted. He slammed on the gas pedal and peeled out of the driveway. The car backed out with much more agility than Darry thought capable.

Two-Bit recklessly disregarded any and all traffic laws, except perhaps the occasional stop light. _At least,_ Darry thought, _we've got a good driver to get away if we _do_ need him._ They were at Tim's house in record time, with only a minute to eleven o'clock.

Tim stood outside his house, arms crossed and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He proceeded to the car with caution, and then looked at Darry, as if expecting him to give Tim the front. Darry merely cocked his head toward the back, and Tim smiled, sliding into the back. Darry felt a rush of pride, knowing that Tim respected him, or at least knew that Darry wouldn't tolerate being treated like one of Tim's gang members. They were allies, yes, and perhaps even friendly. But neither was inferior to the other, and Darry was glad that that point had been made clearly.

"I thought we were a two-man band, Curtis. What's Mathews doin' here?"

Before Darry could defend him, Two-Bit butted in."Aww, c'mon, Timmy. I knew y'all needed a getaway car, and I wanna see ole Lennie for myself. Last time I spoke to him, he was still plain old Johnny Smith."

Tim gave Two-Bit a dangerous glare, which Two-Bit returned with a goofy grin.

"Two-Bit is trustworthy, Tim. He ain't gonna open his mouth. He knows the score."

Tim nodded slowly, still giving Two-Bit the eye.

"And don't get too much ash and shit on my car. I just got it cleaned," Two-Bit said, spotting Tim's cigarette.

Out of the corner of his eye, Darry saw Tim flick the ashes of his cigarette onto the carpet of the car. He might have gained Tim's respect, but Two-Bit apparently, had not.

"So are we going to the auto parts plant near Broken Arrow? Or the one by the Shell station on the outskirts of town?"

"Broken Arrow. It's more secluded than the one near here. And I brought a pistol if you need it," Tim said to Darry.

"I've got a switch. Give it to Two-Bit."

Tim shrugged, finding it seemingly impossible to pass up a gun like the one he was holding. "Whatever suits you. But I'm not saving your ass if someone pulls a gun on you."

Darry wondered how true this was. Tim's gang was full of hardened boys who Tim had almost complete rule over. However, unlike van Zant's boys, Tim's boys were completely loyal. They had been loyal since the day they joined up, and probably would stay that way. There were a few who followed Tim that Darry (and probably Tim) knew had questionable morals, but the rest were all pretty good guys.

Van Zant's fellas, though. They were the ones that worried Darry. "Do these guys have a name?"

"I call 'em The Boobs, 'cause they're all idiots to be following a guy like Lennie. They call themselves The 123rd East Avenue Boys."

"Well," Two-Bit said, "I guess we know where to find them if we need to now."

"Yeah, like I said, Lennie ain't too bright."

Suddenly, Two-Bit made a sharp turn, which sent Darry forward, almost hitting the dashboard.

"Watch it, you crazy bastard! You're gonna get us killed before we even get there."

"No I wouldn't have," Two-Bit said. He pulled the car to a stop and turned to Tim in the back. "This the right place?"

"Yeah, it is." Darry answered for Tim. He knew this place. He remembered driving there with his mother to pick up his father from work, playing in the lot with Sodapop and Ponyboy, and waiting for their father to come out. It was almost painful to look at now, though he'd never given the place much sentimental value before. The difference between what the place once had been and what it had become in the past few years was almost overwhelming. The parking lot in which Darry placed some of his fondest memories with his family was now cracked with weeds growing out of the pavement. The building itself, from what he could see in the dim light, was run down and almost falling into itself; an industrial monster falling into itself, destroying the car parts his father had once helped make.

Two-Bit clapped Darry on the back, and whether it was to tell him to keep trucking or whether Two-Bit really sensed Darry's change in mood, Darry wasn't sure.

The three men made their way toward the far left side of the building, following Tim's lead. Darry watched Tim's movements carefully. He didn't outwardly **show** that he was nervous, but Darry could see it. Tim kept pulling his coat closer to him, despite the warmth of the night. He assumed it was to hide whatever was in his coat, which Darry thought was just the stash and a gun. However, Darry wouldn't put it past Tim to have more up his sleeve. Tim resorted to gun violence when he had, or didn't have to. He assumed he could resort to worse, too.

"We're looking for building six on this side. Curtis, you know this place well, right?"

"Well enough. We're close, I think. I'm pretty sure building six was where all the offices were."

Darry sighed and balled his hand up in his pocket. He hadn't been here in ages, and it made him nervous. He felt as if, at any moment, someone might pop out at him. Perhaps, even, though he brushed the notion off just as soon as it popped up into his mind, a ghost. He wanted to kick himself for that one. He was past that kid stuff about ghosts. Still, though, he didn't doubt that something lurked around the corner. A person, a distant memory, a dilapidated car part, grotesquely bent and broken.

Darry was snapped from his thoughts when Tim stopped abruptly. "This is it. Make sure you've got everything.

Darry reached into his pocket and felt the smooth handle of the blade. But he still wasn't ready. "I'm good."

Two-Bit nodded in agreement, and the three walked into the dark building. It was illuminated only by a street lamp from outside and a flashlight that Tim was shining. "Right down here," Tim muttered, shining the light near some door Darry couldn't see. The hallway seemed so much wider than Darry remembered. Their footsteps, no matter how much they tiptoed, echoed down the hall, surely giving their presence away.

When they finally reached the end of the corridor, Tim made a sharp left toward the only door with light seeping out from under it. They were greeted by a large man, roughly Darry's size, with his arms folded. Tim stepped forward and greeted him.

"Patrick." He extended his hand and shook Patrick's.

"How's it going, Shepard? Heard you was taking some time off in jail."

"Nah, I got off on self defence, but apparently Officer O'Manny has his eyes on me."

Patrick smirked and glanced toward Darry and Two-Bit. "These your friends?"

"Yeah," Tim said. "How many friends you got in there?" The look Tim gave Patrick said what Tim didn't speak out loud perfectly: Don't lie.

"Two more. It's even."

Tim gave Patrick the eye once more and then nodded. Patrick opened the door, ushering in Tim, Darry, and Two-Bit.

The room itself was dimly lit with a few candles, and six flashlights, plus Tim's. Otherwise, everyone seemed to be hidden in a blanket of shadow. Patrick had been true to his word -- there were only two other men in the room. One had to be van Zant. The other, Darry assumed, was one of the more dangerous members of the North Street Boys.

"Johnny," Tim said, approaching the man who was sitting in an old desk. "You realize we could have made this much easier and just delivered this at your place, right?"

"Lennie" glared at Tim. "It's not Johnny, you little shit. My name is Leonard van Zant. _Not_ Johnny."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Okay, Lennie. What's with the whole set up? I know where you live. It ain't a big deal."

Lennie got up and stepped into the light. He was short man with sharp features. His face was angled, and he had dark circles under his eyes, which, in contrast to his pale skin and dark hair, made him look like a madman. Had it not been for this, Lennie would have quite handsome. However, the man was small and looked like he'd pull a trigger at the slightest movement, something that didn't bode well for Darry. "It _is_, a big deal, Shepard. See, if we went to my house, your friends, who I knew you'd bring, would know where I live."

Darry restrained himself from pointing out that their address was in the name of their gang. Finding them was no problem.

"All right, Len. Just cut to the chase. I have your dope, I'd like my money."

"And?" Lennie was smiling wryly, like he had some big secret that he wanted Tim to beg him to share.

Tim sighed. "And I want you to hold off the raid at the warehouse in Bixby until next week when we can get everything out of there. No hassle for either of us."

Lennie grinned. In the dim light, Darry thought that he almost resembled the Cheshire Cat. "I'll do that. But remember our deal. Thirty-Seventy."

Tim nodded and reached carefully into his coat and pulled out the bag. He tossed it to Lennie, who held it up and examined it like a fine gem. He opened he bag and smelled it. Finally, Lennie smiled once more. "Everything seems okay." Lennie turned to the man next to him and nodded. The guy, who was about the same size as Two-Bit, slid a wad of cash over to Tim. Tim picked the cash up and started to count, his usually somber face becoming more and more suspicious as he went on.

After a long silence, Tim looked up. "I'm missing $300."

"Are you sure?" Lennie raised his eyebrows. It made him look even madder than Darry already assumed he was.

"I'm no fool, Lennie, or John, or whoever the fuck you are. I know how much money you _should_ owe me, and I'm still allowing you to rip me off and give me_ half_ of the fucking asking price -- and you're still not paying up? There's $700 here. I want my goddamned thousand like we talked about."

Rather than responding to Tim's growing anger, Lennie turned to his friend, who was already approaching Tim. Patrick, who was on Lennie's right, was now approaching Darry and Two-Bit. Suddenly, as he saw Tim pull his gun, and Two-Bit follow suite, Darry regretted bringing merely a blade.

Who fired the first shot, Darry had no idea, but he assumed it was the big guy tacking Tim. They'd both drawn their guns at the same time, only it seemed that they both had missed each other.

"Fuck!" Someone started shouting over the gunfire. "You wasn't supposed to fire! Fuck."

Darry looked at Two-Bit and they both ran toward the door, Tim following from behind, his gun still in the air. He was holding something else that Darry couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, he didn't want to stick around and see what it could do.

Darry and Two-Bit reached the parking lot and kept running, almost completely forgetting Tim. Darry wouldn't have been reminded had he not heard a loud explosion of glass and flames near the old building.

"Shit, Two-Bit, we've gotta get Tim." Two-Bit looked at Darry as if he was insane. "Just fucking get him, man. If he gets hurt, we'll be even more fucked."

Two-Bit nodded and drove toward the flames in the parking lot, where Tim now stood.

Upon seeing them, Tim made his way toward the car, his gun still raised haphazardly in the air. Tim backed toward the car and tried to get in. The door seemed content, however, on staying tightly shut.

"It's busted! Just jump in the window," Two-Bit yelled from the front. Tim did just this, and, before Tim's legs were even fully in the car, they were off.

For ten minutes, the three said nothing to each other. It wasn't until they were back in Tulsa that Tim cleared his throat to speak. "Any of y'all hurt?"

"Yeah," Darry said. The numb throbbing in his shoulder from where the big guy must have shot him had now turned to a sharp, aching pain.

"Who got you?" Tim asked.

"Big guy, the one about Two-Bit's size."

"Roy. He's the one who's always right behind van Zant. Apparently, though, Lennie didn't want no violence."

Two-Bit sighed as he pulled into his driveway. "I think we're all pretty cut up. Mom's car isn't here, but I'll ask her to look at that shot you got there, Darry. I don't think he got you too bad. Looks like it kind of grazed you's all." The three walked slowly to the house, and Darry could only imagine what the neighbors thought -- three men, all of whom had stirred up trouble in the neighborhood before, looking like that. It certainly didn't make any of them look good.

Darry collapsed on Two-Bit's worn living room couch as soon as he entered the house, while Two-Bit went off to the kitchen.

"Don't bleed none on the couch. I mean it, too. Ma just about killed me when she saw the blood Steve got on it from a fight he got into a few weeks ago."

"Who's bleeding, Keith?"

Darry turned as best he could and saw Two-Bit's younger sister, Anita, coming down the stairs.

"Oh, hi, Darrel."

Darry wanted to smile politely, but he couldn't. Rather, he could only grit his teeth from the pain in his shoulder and give her what he thought was a fairly terrifying "smile". Darry cringed, though, when he was who came down after Patty. It was Jackie, whose face was contorted with both curiosity and shock.


	6. Chapter Six: Close Call

**A/n: **I don't own the song, The Pusher, written by Hoyt Axton and made popular by the band Steppenwolf, nor do I own, or am I making profit from the book, The Outsiders, written by S.E. Hinton.

I have a few things to explain. Patty's name has been changed to Anita. I realize how annoying that must have been to read through Peggy and Patty, which I'm totally sorry for. If you're still confused, PM or email me -- I'll clear up and fix what I can. :) Also, Dr. Edison is not as in Thomas Edison. It's a small Beatles homage -- anyone who catches it will make me quite the happy one. :P

Enjoy! Reviews are love!

* * *

_But the Pusher don't care/Ah, if you live or if you die/God damn the Pusher_

Darry's heart dropped as he watched Jackie come down the stairs, her mouth hanging wide open. This was it, the end to any potential relationship he might have with Linda, to any hope of going back to roofing. He was royally screwed.

Jackie approached Darry slowly, as if he was supposed to be quarantined. "You're bleeding."

Darry gritted his teeth. "Really? I didn't notice."

Before Jackie could respond, Two-Bit approached his sister. His lopsided smile had been replaced with a dangerous look. It wasn't angry, but it was dangerous, nonetheless. Two-Bit looked down at his sister and took a deep breath. "Anita." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Anita, look. You ain't gonna tell mom nothing, okay? I mean, we need her to look at Darry, but if you overheard anything, I swear to God, you're not repeating anything."

Rather than respond to Two-Bit's threat, Anita just glared up at him. They both had the same set look: furrowed brows, pursed lips. They looked almost identical.

"Two-Bit, just tell me what the hell is goin' on."

"Where's Mom gone to?"

"Mom's comin' home soon. But _what happened_?"_  
_  
Two-Bit sighed. "There was a fight. That's all there is to it."

"There was more to it, obviously." Anita gestured to Darry's shoulder. The white shirt he was wearing was now stained red with blood.

Two-Bit began to yell, raising his hands dramatically. Darry, however, hardly heard what Two-Bit was shouting. Instead, he leaned over the couch and vomited. He looked back up and began to say something before vomiting again. Tim rushed over and placed a trash can under Darry's head, which he only barely hit. In fact, instead of hitting the trash can, he ended up vomiting on Jackie's shoes.

Jackie stood back and looked at Darry in horror. "He - he puked on my ... he puked on my shoes! Anita, he vomited! On my shoes!"

Two-Bit had run over and was now helping Darry sit up straight, and Tim had a look on his face that bordered between the usual blankness and amusement. If Darry had been able to speak right then, he would have called Tim every name in the book. Jackie, who was still absolutely mortified, moved away from Darry and glared. At that moment, she looked like she could have absolutely, without a doubt, killed Darry.

"You threw up!"

"We freaking heard you, Jackie. He's bleeding, for chrissake!" Anita shouted.

"But these are new. Brand new platform shoes. They're _ruined_."

Darry began to cough and Two-Bit handed him a glass of water. He sipped and then spat it back out in the trash can. "Thanks. Jackie, I'll buy you new goddamned shoes. Just ..." Darry stopped. Just what? Just don't tell your cousin? Just don't freak out? Just calm down? Just what?

"I sure as hell hope you will, because if not, you'll be sorry."

Darry felt the need to vomit again and turned away, actually hitting the can this time. When he was done, he glared at Jackie. Before he could say anything, however, the front door opened and Mrs. Mathews walked in, her brow raised suspiciously from hearing all the arguing outside. When she saw Darry's arm, though, the look of annoyance changed immediately to one of concern.

"There was a fight. Just drive us to the hospital. I don't even know why I thought comin back home was a good idea," Two-Bit said. He didn't hide the glare he threw at his sister and Jackie, either. "Ma, does it look too bad?"

Peggy blinked and regained her composition before approaching Darry. "Does it hurt too much?"

"Like hell," Darry said, grinding his teeth. At this point he didn't care what he said around who, he just wanted the pain to stop for God's sake.

Peggy looked more closely at the wound and traced her finger around it. Darry winced as he felt her hand almost touch the wound. "It's not too deep, but you'll need stitches. Come on." Peggy helped Darry up and, with surprising strength, hoisted part of his weight under her shoulder. Darry wanted to tell her he could walk, but truth be told, he was beginning to feel nauseated again. Whether it was from shock or blood loss, he had no idea. He didn't seem to be bleeding that badly.

"Don't look like you're gonna be getting your job back roofing anytime soon," Two-Bit said, propping himself under Darry's other shoulder.

Together, Peggy and Two-Bit helped Darry out to the driveway and put him in the small family car. He sank down into the front seat and closed his eyes, letting himself do something he almost never did -- he receded into himself until he couldn't tell what was going on anymore. There was no difference between the time passing and the time he wished would pass, the pain he was feeling, and the pain he wished would go away. Everything felt indifferent to him. It was all a blur, and the fine line that defined the difference between reality and subconscious was almost completely nonexistent.

Suddenly, Darry felt hot tears run down his face, and before he could stop himself, he was shaking with sobs. He didn't even make an attempt to quit crying. Everything he'd bottled up for the past five years came rushing out. He imagined how Dally felt, lying on the ground with four bullets in him. He thought of how Sodapop must have felt, lying on the ground in a jungle so far from Tulsa with shards of metal ripping him apart. How his parents felt in their dying moments, their car fishtailing in the icy road.

Soda's letters home never told of the guys he'd seen killed in action. They only described the heat, the misery, and how his goddamned back hurt so much from slogging up the mountains. Steve's, though, always described how this guy or that guy had been shot with this or that. He even remembered when Steve was sent to the hospital in Saigon for a few weeks after he'd been shot in the leg. How had that felt for Steve? Did he cry like Darry? Did he think about Dally, or had Steve been so hardened by then that nothing shocked him anymore? He wondered if Steve even remembered how to cry at that point. He'd only seen Steve cry once before, after Dally and Johnny had died. Darry didn't even know if Steve had cried when his father kicked him out, when his brother died, or when his mother walked out on them.

Mostly, though, Darry wondered if he had the right to cry. He knew he'd live, he had nothing to fear, except perhaps the bill that would come after, but right now, that didn't even matter. The pain in his arm was now a dull aching pain. He was numb, perhaps because he'd forced himself to feel nothing, or perhaps only because he'd become used to the pain.

It wasn't until they reached the hospital that Darry was shaken from his thoughts. He closed his eyes and sighed as Peggy helped him once more toward the hospital doors. Darry shuddered and walked in, trying to block everything out; the bright luminescent lights, the smell of piss and sanitation, and the pain that lingered in his shoulder. He closed his eyes and let out the last few tears before blocking everything out.

XxXxX

Darry winced as he tried to roll his shoulder.

"Easy there ... you're not going to want to mess with that shoulder for a while. Just go easy on it -- no heavy lifting." Darry looked at Dr. Edison and nodded.

"Now," Dr. Edison said. He leaned in closely so that only Darry could hear him. "You say you cut your arm on a scrap of metal. I believe you just fine, but make sure that story doesn't change. Lord knows it's happened before, too."

Darry cocked his eyebrow. Did the doctor know more than he was letting on? He'd known Doc Landon for years now, coming in and out of the hospital with minor and major injuries alike for the past few years. Was he just trying to do them a good deed now?

"Well, um, yessir. I'll be careful."

"Good, good. About your bill now. It comes to about $335. However, this is a charity hospital, which means we ask for what you can pay; half that would be better than none."

Darry did the math in his head. "That's $167. I can afford that."

"Good. You can go to your doctor's in two weeks to get your stitches removed, or you can come back here. Hospital rules saythat you're not supposed to, but we generally let it slide."

Darry grinned and got up. "Thanks, doc. I'm not sure how much I can thank you."

"I've gotten used to seeing you here over the past few years. Just stop coming in so damned often. Nobody likes the hospital that much."

Darry smiled once more and shook Doctor Edison's hand, then walked out into the waiting room. Two-Bit and Peggy were sitting next to each other. They both looked absolutely worn out.

"About time," Two-Bit said, smiling. "It's four-thirty."

"Christ. I wonder what the kid's thinking."

Peggy got up and began to walk toward the door, and suddenly Darry felt incredibly guilty. He didn't need to drag Peggy into this; she didn't deserve even more stress. She was exhausted by now, and Darry remembered with a pang that she must have work in the morning, too. They both did.

He sighed and got into the small Oldsmobile. "Peggy, I'm real sorry."

"Nonsense. You were hurt, you needed to be taken to the hospital. But I want to know what happened. And no bullshit like you told the doctor, either. I reckon the only reason he didn't question your story's 'cause he knows y'all. What happened?"

Darry had heard that question too many times for one night.

"We got shot at." Two-Bit said it.

"I could see that from the beginning -- it's just the sort of thing that would happen in the company of Tim Shepard. But who shot you? Why?"

"We got into a fight, Ma. That's all that happened."

"I know, Keith, that you're covering for someone. I don't know who, but I know that you're protecting someone and I don't like that. Why are you doing that?"

Darry wished he could just get out of the car at this point and walk home. He hated being questioned this way, especially by Peggy who had always trusted him. She was smart, that was for sure, but explaining everything would be far too complicated. How had any of this happened in the first place? It was all because Ponyboy had gotten into one goddamned fight, and he had to stick his nose in it and talk to Shepard. He should have just beaten Curly up and said that was that. Damn his pride! Why did he have to always take matters into his own hands? All he ever wanted was peace, but God seemed to think otherwise. A big "Fuck you, Darrel Curtis," was all he ever got.

Darry felt a lump rise in his throat as Two-Bit and Peggy began arguing in the front. He pressed his head against the cool glass of the window and closed his eyes. Soon, sleep overcame him for the rest of the ride home.


	7. Chapter Seven: Return to Normalcy

A/n: Sorry for the lack of update. I'm sick right now, and I just finished finals, so things have been slightly hectic. However, here you go! Chapter seven. :) There is only one thing in here that I'd like to point out before continuing. There's mention of clothes that I've done my research well on, merely a mini skirt and crop top. Mind you, this story takes place in 1971. The mini skirt came about in the mid-sixties in England and were at the height of its popularity in the early 70's, after the brief appearance of the hippie maxi skirt. Crop tops were also the kind of everyday bikini, and they also came into the fashion scene in the early to mid seventies. Anyway, if anyone has any questions, corrections, or doesn't think it fits really, please tell me. :)

As always, I do not own _The Outsiders_, by SE Hinton, nor do I own the song _Mad World, _written by Roland Orzabal and originally performed by Tears For Fears. Enjoy! Reviews are very appreciated.

* * *

_All around me are familiar faces/Worn out places, worn out faces/Bright and early for their daily races/Going nowhere, going nowhere_

When Darry arrived home, he saw that the living room light was still on. Good God, poor Ponyboy. He must have waited up all night waiting for Darry to return home. By now, it was at the break of dawn, and the sun was making its way into the sky, painting it a brilliant shade of gold and pink. It briefly reminded him of the pictures by Monet that he'd studied in high school; pictures so brilliant that he'd almost wished he could have been a part of them.

Now, though, he hadn't the time to pay attention to such things. Especially not now.

Darry opened the door hesitantly, making sure not to let it slam behind him. Sure enough, on the couch was Pony, fast asleep with one arm flung over the side of the couch and his head still propped on the arm of the couch. On the floor was a discarded copy of _A Clockwork Orange_.

Darry walked over the couch and shook his brother as lightly as he could. Pony, however, jolted up and looked around wildly. "Hey, little buddy. Don't give yourself a heart attack."

Ponyboy sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Where were you?" He sounded neither accusatory nor angry. Just curious. Darry wondered if somewhere, though, deep in the clockwork of Pony's mind, he was remembering five years back. Five years when fate, or was it kismet? had decided to be ever so cruel to them. When _he_ had been so cruel to Ponyboy.

"I, uh. I got into a rough spot." Darry sighed and sat down. He threw his arm over Ponyboy's shoulder and yawned. He then began to rehash the events of the past night. When he finished explaining everything, from what had happened almost a week ago after approaching Tim, to only a few hours before, it was well past sunrise and Darry had to go to work. It was six forty-five and Darry realized he hadn't slept properly in twenty-four hours.

"I'm thinking of selling the house, too. It's not set in stone or nothin, I've just been thinking on it since the other day. I don't know how long we can afford to live here."

Ponyboy didn't say anything. He only sat still and stared straight at Darry. Darry really wished he wouldn't do that. It was like Pony was staring right into him and it was goddamn unsettling. "Where would we move to?"

"Probably a duplex or something like that." Darry got up and made way toward the bathroom. "I'm going to hop in the shower, though. And hey, kid?"

"Yeah, Darry?"

Darry paused for a moment, not even sure what he was going to ask. "What are you thinking about?"

Pony's lips parted into a smile, and then turned into a frown. "I'm just mulling over what you said."

Darry nodded and turned. He left it at that and prepared to get back into the groove of the day, whether he was prepared to or not.

* * *

Darry was hating his new job more and more as every hour went by. He'd hardly been working there a week and he could barely take it. The store was dark and musty, and the only thing that Milo played was the crap country radio station that would occasionally come on with Johnny Cash or John Denver. Usually, though, it stuck to Willie Nelson and the guys Darry couldn't stand. When Milo was out, Darry fiddled with the radio a bit and occasionally came across a good Bowie song or something worth hearing, but usually he turned it off. Soon the only other noise in the place was that goddamned bell that rang every time the door opened.

Mostly, Darry missed the fresh air and ruckus from working outside. He missed the cursing and honking of horns and all of his loud, obnoxious buddies who he'd worked with.

Darry tapped his foot slowly to no particular rhythm as he flipped through a paperback. One thing his new job did give him time to do was read. Watts' Watts was a small Mom and Pop place. It had been around for almost forty years, and it was amazing that the store was still hanging in there. It was only a matter of time before Milo would have to close the place up and Darry would be out looking for another job.

"Christ, boy. You look exhausted." Milo came limping over, clutching his lower back.

"You don't look so great, either," Darry said, nodding toward Milo's hunched back.

Milo waved his hand dismissively. "This? Ain't nothin but a old wound from back in Korea. I ever tell you 'bout Korea?" Milo walked over to the other side of the counter and sat down heavily on the stool. "I ever tell you that I was in Korea?"

"No, sir." Darry straightened up and smiled, welcoming a chance to change the subject from his mundane work. "Anything interesting happen out there?"

"Yeah, sure. Plenty happened. I almost got discharged twice, once honorably, once dishonorably. Now the first time we was out there and I was down in Seoul with a few of my buddies. One of them, Zale , this guy from England, I think, gets this real smart idea to snatch some brandy and cigars from a colonel's place up at a local MASH unit. So, we rent ourselves a jeep and ride on down about three miles to the MASH unit to visit his buddy, Dish. Dish turns out to be this pretty little nurse who he'd been sleepin with, and the last time they left off wasn't so good. So, Zale, Zale puts his arm 'round Dish's waist and grins and says to her, --" Milo cleared his throat and did his best possible Cockney accent", 'Dish, baby, we need a favor 'o yers. See, we's got ourself a mate, 'n 'is name is ... uh ... Tuttle. 'e's real sick, over in another place. So's we's thinkin 'o gettin him some brandy to cheer 'im up, an' we 'ear your comandin officer's got some.' Zale did a little more of this for some time, kinda kissin on Dish, too, and stuff till she's all giggly.

"So, finally," Milo said, still grinning from ear to ear, "after the rest of us left Zale for an hour or so, he'd convinced Dish to sneak in and get us some drinks. Well, we got ourselves the brandy, plus some cigars and got real soused that night." Milo's reminiscent grin turned to a frown. "Zale died about two weeks later in a jeep accident a month 'fore he was set to go home. I never thought how life swept people up like that until then, you know? But anyway, we almost got discharged 'cause I almost got the goddamn lucky shot. There was this kid just sitting out there in the middle of the road -- looked like the cutest little boy I'd ever seen -- and he was bleedin, so I decided that I'd try and, you know, save him. Turned out the kid was dead and there was some guys out in the bushes waitin to ambush the next dumb white guy who tried to save the kid. It was me."

"The second time?"

"That was after I was released from the hospital, actually right back in Seoul -- lucky for us being so close, right? There was a new CO named Dongan , and he was always trying to move up from a Sergeant. This one day, he told me to shoot at these civilians, these 'gooks' he called them, and I didn't. They wasn't doing nothing. But I got written up for it anyway." Milo sighed and checked his watch. "It ain't but half an hour to closing. Get on out of here. I won't tell no one."

Darry smiled and stretched, wincing as his back cracked. "Sounds good. Need help mopping up or anything?"

Milo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Nah, it ain't needed. I don't bother half the time anyhow."

Darry shook his head and laughed, and then walked out, cursing the chiming bell behind him. Despite the boredom, the chiming bell, and the events of the past few days, a small excitement rose up in him. In less than two hours, he'd see Linda. For just a few hours, he'd restore some tiny amount of normalcy in his life.

* * *

"What's she look like?" Bryon Douglas sat across from Darry at the kitchen table, a cigarette hanging idly out of his mouth.

"I dunno. She's tiny, like really short. I think she's about a foot smaller than me."

Bryon smirked. "Sounds like Angel."

"Yeah, but none of us is dating any Shepards these days," Ponyboy said from his perch on the counter.

"What, you broke up with Curly?" Bryon teased.

"Yeah," Pony said with a wry smile. "Only after Cathy came after me 'cause she heard I was better."

Bryon glared at Ponyboy and said a few choice words. Darry assumed that the subject of Cathy was still a slight soft spot between the two.

"Get your feet off the table, Douglas, or you ain't gonna be here much longer." Darry tugged Bryon's chair back, forcing his dirty feet, which still had his shoes intact, off the table. "The only problem about Linda is that she's always got this girl JackieKurtsomething with her who's a pill."

Bryon quickly lost interest in what he'd been saying to Pony and looked at Darry, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Wait, wait, wait. Jackie Kurtwood? Jackie cut-you-up Kurtwood?" A sudden realization seemed to come over Ponyboy and he laughed along with Bryon. "Oh, Jesus H. Christ. Mark once dated her for about a week. They was worse than me and Angela."

"But if she hangs out with Linda, then Linda's gotta be pretty."

"Why do you say that?" Darry asked. Linda _was_ pretty, but perhaps Darry was biased. He'd think any girl he was interested in was pretty, whether she actually was or not.

"Because," Ponyboy said. "She's pretty, she's shallow, she's rich, and she only hangs out with other pretty, rich, shallow girls. They're all a little less prettier than Jackie, though."

"How do you know this? And besides, I think the only reason she's always with Linda is because they're cousins."

Bryon gave a low whistle. "She must be a fox then. Have you ever seen their family? It's like fucking angels had some kinda orgy or something. It ain't normal. Except their dad who's this fat bald Irish guy. But I guess neither of them got his ugly gene."

Pony laughed and nodded, taking a drag on Bryon's cigarette. "She's pretty nice lookin. She was too shallow to even look my way, though. Too poor, too young."

"You're the same age, though," Bryon said.

"Exactly. She only went for older guys. She went for you and Mark all the time."

"Well, I don't think Linda's a brat or anything. I mean, she's real sweet to me. This is our second date."

"If getting crushed by a cast iron bed counts as a date, you mean."

"Smartass." Darry ruffled Pony's hair and laughed.

Darry walked over to the oven to check on the chicken he'd put in when the doorbell rang. Bryon began to get up to answer before Darry gave him a look to sit back down and stay his ass right where it was. Darry closed the oven and went to answer the door. As he expected, there was Linda, grinning from ear to ear. She really did look pretty. She was wearing a mini-skirt and sandals, and a flowy top that Darry couldn't help but notice showed her midriff when she lifted her arms.

"Hi, Darrel."

Darry grinned and opened the door a little wider. "Hey, Linda." He invited her in and rolled his eyes when he saw Bryon and Pony glancing at Linda from the kitchen. "Linda, this is my little brother, Pon-"

"Michael," Ponyboy said, striding into the family room, his hand outstretched.

"- My brother, Michael," Darry said, pointing to Ponyboy. He was slightly fazed, but not very shocked, either. He finished with, "and his friend, Bryon Douglas."

"Pleased to meet you," Linda said, smiling.

Bryon nodded his head nonchalantly and gave Pony a lopsided grin. "C'mon, _Michael_. I hear you got cheated outta some money in pool a few weeks ago. Wanna win it back?"

Pony smiled and walked out the door, waving to Linda, who was now seated awkwardly on the couch. Bryon walked back toward Darry, grabbing his coat and purposely bumping into him.

"By the way, Curtis, Angel told me this afternoon what happened last night. If she knows, then it means so does everyone and their grandmother. Chances are Tim told her to keep her trap shut a little too late. I'd watch it if I were you, but if you need help, give me a call. I'd take any chance to bust Tim Shepard."

"You still see her then?" Darry asked, careful to mask what they'd been talking about around Linda.

Bryon didn't answer immediately. He walked to the door, turned, and smiled. "Just when I want to." He then shut the door behind him.

Darry pushed what Bryon told him to the back of his head. At least for now. He turned and focused his attention on Linda, who, since Bryon left, had eased up. He turned his attention to Linda, who, since Bryon and Ponyboy had left, seemed to have relaxed considerably. She sat on the couch, legs crossed, and everything about her seemed more feminine. He remembered that only the other day she had looked clean and natural, with her frizzy hair pulled back and strands of hair framing her face. Now she looked fresh and excited, her wild hair down and free in a headband. Darry wasn't sure which one he preferred.

He sat down on the couch, giving Linda some space and smiling a little. "How are you doing?"

"Fantastic! Really nice. My place is coming along nicely, you know. My uncle helped me clean everything else up, and I really appreciate your help."

"It was no problem. I really enjoyed helping."

"Well," Linda smiled sweetly and placed her hand on Darry's knee. "It was a pleasure to get to know you better. I'm enjoying the prospect of knowing you even better now, too."

Did Linda really mean that? Darry wondered. Everything about her seemed to genuine, but after what Bryon and Ponyboy had said, he was curious. But perhaps it was just Jackie ... They were, after all, two quite different people.

"I wish I had a nicer place to show to you. My house is pretty sad."

"No, I really think it's really nice. A home is what you make of it. I once lived in a two bedroom house with six people."

Darry raised his eyebrows. "Six people?"

"Well, I was shipped around a lot as a kid. My father is a banker, and he got shipped from place to place, and when I was little, he and my mother split, so sometimes, if my mother wasn't able to afford us, we'd live where my dad was." Linda smiled. "Have you ever been to Paris?"

"I've never been very far outside of Oklahoma. Texas is the furthest I've been, honestly."

"Darrel, it's beautiful. If Daddy still worked there, I'd find a way to show you. People are absolutely alive there. It's invigorating."

"Isn't everyone alive? I mean, you're either living or you're not, right?"

Linda furrowed her brow. "Of course not. Everyday I see people walk down the street and they just keep their eyes pasted to the ground. It's pathetic. They're physically alive, but they might as well have died years ago. Do you know what I mean?"

"Well, I suppose I can see what you mean. I just don't fully comprehend it." To Darry, this seemed like something Ponyboy would eat up. He was, after all, the psychology major.

After a few moments, Linda got up and walked into the kitchen. Darry followed her, to find Linda standing at the table, tinkering with the coffee percolator.

"You're unbelievable." Darry said.

Linda turned and laughed, though she seemed unsure of whether or not Darry was serious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I've just never met someone who can't hardly hold one conversation for more than a few minutes, and yet for some reason it doesn't annoy me the way it usually would. It's just amusing. And if you want coffee, I can make you some. Just don't break the damned thing."

Linda blushed. "I'm not very domesticated."

Suddenly, Darry grinned, and he felt a strange excitement come over him. He grinned. "Good thing one of us is." He opened the top shelf and took out a tin of Folger's Coffee Grinds and noticed that there wasn't much left. He wondered if coffee would soon have to become a luxury. He pushed that thought away, just as he had with Bryon's comment, and made the coffee.

One thing he did enjoy was that Linda was content to watch Darry simply make coffee. She didn't mind skipping the small talk and not making any conversation at all. He couldn't stand useless small talk.

When he was done with the coffee, and dinner was finished, Darry sat down with two plates, one for himself, and other set in front of Linda. "It's nothing grand, but it's just the chicken my mom taught me how to make when I was a kid."

Linda nodded and began to eat, brandishing her fork in between sentences. "When I was in high school, we played this game called the Truth Game. You'd go back and forth, and tell anything about yourself that someone else might not know. But you can't lie. Hence why it's called the Truth Game."

"I don't really have any secrets, though." Darry knew that was probably the most blatant lie he'd ever told; his secrets seemed to pile up by the day.

"Oh, everyone does. I'll start. I've never been to Paris. And my father's not a bank executive. He's a bank teller. He lives in Paris, Texas. But my siblings and I did live with him when my mom ran out of money, and I did live in a two bedroom house with six people. We moved around a lot. Just not outside of the states. They separated, Mom and Dad I mean, when I was little, because my mother was just kind of miserable, and Dad was always full of life and stuff. I think having four children took its toll on Mom and she finally just left, took us, then gave us to Dad when she couldn't afford us. But she was liberated and happy. It was just in a sad, kinda twisted way."

Darry stared at Linda and saw the genuine sadness in her eyes. He appreciated her honesty, though it was overwhelming. Then again, he'd met plenty of people whose fathers or mothers had walked out on the family, Steve's mom and Two-Bit's dad being the perfect example. One day there, and then the next, without a rhyme or reason, they were gone.

Linda gave Darry a small smile, and flourished her hand, as if to say, "It's perfectly okay," and shrugged. "Now it's your turn."

He thought for a moment, then recalled something he'd never revealed to anyone else except for the person with him at the time. "You've seen Old Yeller, right?"

"Sure, of course."

"Well, my dad, he used to take me and my brothers hunting a lot, and my younger brother, he was a really good shot, but he'll never hurt anything if he doesn't have to. But this one time, me and my friend Paul, back in high school, we were riding around, and we saw this old yellow dog on the side of the road, and it looked miserable and mangy. It didn't look like it'd make it another day without being downright miserable. So, we opened Paul's trunk, got out a hunting rifle, and put the dog out of his misery. And, believe it or not, I even cried a little bit. It was the first time I'd experienced death."

Linda's facial expression hadn't changed. It was still inquisitive, if not a little sad. "You've seen death, haven't you?" Darry didn't respond. How could he? Here was someone who thoroughly intrigued him, interested, and amused him. Yet he wasn't going to open up to her. He still hardly knew her.

"It's okay." She reached over and took his hands in hers. "If we didn't lose the friends we love, even dogs on the street, nothing would make an impact on us. People don't have to be physically dead to die."

Darry only smiled, because it was all he could do to be polite. He hadn't expected such an awkward turn of events in the conversation. And he certainly wasn't sure what Linda meant by being dead and still living. To him, the dog was dead. Dallas, Johnny, Mom, and Dad, and Sodapop were dead. That was all.

* * *

The hot, heavy night air had turned frigid and cool, and Darry shivered as he walked up to Linda's front steps, his large leather jacket loosely fitting her.

She said, "I have to be at dance practice for the next week, so I don't think I'll see you much. But I want you to know that I do enjoy being around you."

Darry grinned and didn't say anything. Rather, he leaned toward her, tucking a loose strand of frizzy, dark hair behind her ear, and kissed Linda ever so briefly on the lips. "I'll call you."

"That sounds nice. Hasta luego," she whispered.

Darry wasn't sure what that meant, but he liked the sound of it. He stepped off the stoop, grinning, forgetting the cold night air. Perhaps things would turn out okay. Maybe.


	8. Chapter Eight: Can't Go On

_**A/n: **_First off, a huge thanks to my beta, Hahukum Konn, who I've neglected to mention. Thanks so much! :) Also, I don't own, nor am I making any profit off of The Outsiders, written by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own the song _Drive, written by _Ric Ocasek and released in 1984, by The Cars.

Okay, onto the slightly longer A/n than usual, lol. This chapter ties in with my oneshot Exit the Warrior. If you're unfamiliar with it, I'd recommend reading it, just to avoid confusion. However, if not, all that's needed to know is that after dealing with Lennie, Darry let Steve in on what happened, and jumping of Tim ensued, so now there's been a kind of circle of revenge created. If you still have questions, PM me, please. I'll try and explain everything, though hopefully nothing should be too confusing.

I'm not sure how many other diehard Who or Pete Townshend fans there are out there, but Raymond Highsmith and Remus Knight are my homages to Pete Townshend's 1993 album, Psychoderilict. Remus' name was going to be Rastus until I made he connection that it was actually apparently a horribly racist euphemism. Thank you, Wikipedia, lol. Anyway, if anyone catches that, I'll be thoroughly impressed.

Also, the song _Pretty Ballerina,_ mentioned in this chapter, is by the band The Left Banke, who are known for originally writing _Walk Away, Renee_. It's a beautiful song, so if you're into classic rock (or you're not), I totally recommend checking it out on or youtube.

Okay, enjoy! Concrit and reviews are always welcome! :)

* * *

_Who's gonna hold you down when you shake?/Who's gonna come around when you break?/You can't go on thinkin' nothin's wrong_

Bitter winds were picking up outside, whistling through the windows and shaking the branches of trees outside. It was only early autumn and Darry was feeling the loneliness of the season. Ponyboy was away at college, Steve preoccupied with Evie, Two-Bit with work, and Darry was still avoiding Tim Shepard like the plague. Not that he'd been bothered since he and Steve had jumped Tim. Still, word was spreading, and Darry wondered whether or not at any given moment someone would strike. Something was bound to happen. Now it was just up to time to tell when things would fall into place. And eventually, they would. The inevitable would happen, just as it always did. All it had to do was build up the right amount of momentum and get moving, then let inertia take over.

The only living creature left in the house aside from Darry himself was the cat, who he'd named Kitty after simply giving up on thinking of a better name. She was a strange cat. She'd run across the house, batting around various objects and chasing absolutely nothing. It typically amused him, though sometimes it annoyed him. Usually when he woke up in the middle of the night**, **it was to hear some loud crash or feel something light jump on his stomach and dig its tiny claws into him. She was nice company, though. At least Kitty put up with his grumpy moods. Though perhaps it was merely because he fed her.

Darry sighed and looked out the window. A trash bag floated with the wind down the sidewalk and the girl next door took off, chasing after it and grinning. She hadn't a care in the world, and Darry truly pitied her for that. He heard the fights next door, he'd seen she, her mother, and even her brothers leave with busted lips and bruised eyes. He sighed. If chasing a plastic bag was her freedom, he truly felt bad for her.

He watched her run out into the middle of the road as the wind picked up and carried the bag ever higher. It twirled the bag with little effort, spinning it in circles and letting it fall with grace. The girl finally jumped up and caught the bag with one hand and grinned, holding it up like a prize until the wind carried it off once more. She kept chasing it, and occasionally she'd spin around on one foot, almost like a ballerina, dancing with the wind. She didn't carry the grace or elegance of a ballerina, but somehow her movements fit with the tempo that the wind held. Perhaps it was her mere contentment to simply dance, despite what lay inside her house. Surely nothing she'd like to go home to.

The girl's fixation with the bag was suddenly broken as a car pulled into her driveway and she ran off toward it. The man who Darry recognized as her father, the one who perpetuated the ongoing arguments, stepped out. The girl grinned and ran toward him, jumping into his arms. She couldn't have been more than ten. He wondered how she could still hug him.

The bag was picked up once more by the wind, then it landed in a puddle of water and ceased to move. It just quivered weakly and then gave up.

Darry turned and dug his hands into his pockets. Surely there would be another argument later that night. There typically was. And yet here was this girl, going back to her father. It was curious. He wondered why, or even how she could hug him so tightly and lovingly. He supposed thinking on it wouldn't get him very far, though.

He'd never realized it until then and he'd never given it any thought. When the doors of that house closed, every person inside, that man, Mr. Anderson, his daughter, his step-sons, and his wife, all had their stories. He supposed he had his stories as well, as did his parents, even Tim Shepard. Some people were just better at keeping those stories behind closed doors.

With a small sigh and one last glance out the window, Darry put on his thick leather bomber jacket and braced the cold autumn air. He made his way down the street toward Linda's small apartment. He wasn't quite sure what to make of her. Or anything, really. Since late August, they'd been seeing each other much more often, seeing movies together, such as Harold and Maude, and spending hours just talking. However, nothing past that had happened. He supposed she had become, over the past two months, merely a close friend. She always seemed to find an excuse to invite him over. A pipe was busted under the sink, a window pane chipped, a light bulb burnt out. And Darry was always obliged to help.

She always had a story to tell him while he was busy working. Sometimes they were from her own experiences, but most of the times he thought that they were nothing but tall tales. As Darry made his way over to Linda's house on this day in particular, he thought of the story she'd been telling him last time. It was about a man she'd lived next door to by the name of Holeem and his son, who they called Mo, because that was the only part of his name they could pronounce. She claimed that they were Moroccan immigrants, and Linda told Darry that it had been Holeem who taught her how to tap dance.

Before Darry could give Holeem and Mo from Morocco much more thought, he bumped into a bright canary yellow hearse right outside Linda's door. Darry stared at it, bemused, and then shook his head and walked up to Linda's door, knocking.

The door opened, but instead of Linda, in the doorway was a tall, redheaded man with broad shoulders about Darry's height.

"Can I help you?" His tone told Darry that he wasn't welcome, something which Darry didn't appreciate. He might not have known Linda well, but he knew her well enough to have the right to knock on her door and not have some stranger turn him away.

From the kitchen Darry heard Linda's voice. "Who's at the door, Ray?"

"I'm not sure, babe." The man, Ray, gave Darry another look and within a matter of seconds, Linda was at the door as well, by Ray's side. The usual cheery grin on her face vanished almost instantly. In its place was a shocked look. She seemed at an utter loss for words.

"Darrel! This is my, uh ... friend. This is my cousin Ronnie's friend, really, Raymond Highsmith ... We call him Ray High. He and Ronnie work together with their friend Remus as morticians. That's why there's the Cadillac outside. He's just a good friend who was leaving."

Darry cut Linda off before she could go any further. "It's fine. You don't have to explain. I just wanted to come by and give you this. I thought you'd really like it. I heard one of the songs on the radio yesterday. It's called _Pretty Ballerina_ if you want to hear it. Sorry for bothering you." Darry handed the record to Linda and turned away from the tiny apartment, forgetting about the October cold. All he wanted to do was get away from 420 King Street, away from Linda shouting after him**. **He just wanted to get home where he was safe from all of this. **  
**

* * *

Darry had walked in no particular direction, yet he found himself back home, now a little past six. The sun was beginning to set, casting an almost eerie shadow upon the house. It reminded him of Norman Bates' house in _Psycho_. Not the size or exact topography, but merely the way the sun had cast its shadow on the house. It was the queerest feeling. Darry was quick to brush it off. But still, something told him not to go in. But damn it if that was enough. Some silly premonition wouldn't stop Darrel Curtis from entering his own home! Perhaps someone else, but no, not him. He refused to be chased from his own home. No gut instinct or stupid feeling would stop him.

He gave a resigned sigh and opened the front door. Stepping through the threshold, Darry expected something to pop out at him, or _something_ dramatic to happen.

Darry heard something rustle, perhaps a paper, in the kitchen. Kitty was napping on the couch, and he knew right then that he wasn't alone. He looked around and picked up the thing closest to him: a shoe. It was a work boot that had been so worn out that it would probably do more harm to the shoe itself than whoever lurked in the kitchen.

He picked up the shoe and decided that, if need be, he could probably do more damage with his own fists anyway. After all, they were what he was known for. Superman didn't come from nowhere.

Darry made his way with caution through the living room, holding the work shoe out like a torch. He glanced over his shoulder at Kitty, who had woken from her nap and was staring at Darry. He glared at her. Even the cat thought he was crazy.

There was nothing in the dining room as he walked through, and he wondered if perhaps his imagination, just for once had escaped him. And then he entered the kitchen.

"This is a really fucked up book, you know that? It took me three chapters to even get what the fuck this guy's saying, then I figure out he's killing and raping every other chick he and his friends see. I didn't think you read shit like that, Curtis."

Tim Shepard sat at the kitchen table, brandishing Ponyboy's copy of _A Clockwork Orange_ and lounging with his feet on the table in the exact same position that Bryon Douglas typically sat; feet on the table, chair tilted dangerously back, smirking the entire time. One cocky sonofabitch. "What're you going to do, spank me with your work boot?" Tim laughed and in one swift movement was on his feet, face to face with Darry.

No! Darry was done with this. He was through with Tim Shepard, he was through with being treated like shit by everyone around him; his former boss, Tim, Linda. Everyone was fucking him over and _it wasn't okay._ Darry grabbed Tim's shirt collar and picked up him.

"You don't quit, do you? I'm going to give you one chance to get out, then I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. And I ain't had a good day."

Tim was quick. Darry gasped and felt his eyes water as Tim kneed him right in the balls. He dropped Tim, presumably on the ankle that he and Steve had broken when they'd jumped him.

Darry raised his fist and prepared to take a swing at Tim, but Tim merely walked away and sat down at the kitchen table, looking calm and cool as ever, something that wasn't okay in the very least with Darry.

"I came here to make a deal. It ain't no unfair deal, either. I know you got hurt last time --"

"And I kicked your ass last time. What're you doing back?"

"Thought I'd drop in and chat with you; Strike up a deal."

"Forget it, Tim. I'm done with your bullshit."

"Really?" Tim frowned and feigned devastation. "Well, the way I see it is that there are more dope dealers in Tulsa than Lennie. And I know for a fact that Steve Randle just got engaged to Evie Kerrigan. See, I know lots of addicts, 'cause you know, Angel's husband is one and my old man was too. I know that as soon as they even get a whiff of what they want, they know they need it." Tim was grinning from ear to ear, his scar spreading across his face. He looked like something mad and otherworldly. "I happen to know a guy by the name of Remus Knight, who used to work on cars with Randle. He also used to shoot up with 'im. Remus, real persuasive. I'm absolutely positive I can persuade _him _to get Randle to break out the tar. Savvy?" Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out a Zippo lighter, then tugged at a string around his neck, which made an odd swooshing sound. "Or I can _light your fire_ if you get what I mean."

"Fuck you."

"Such harsh words from Boy of the Year."

"What do you want?" Darry sighed. He wanted to kill Tim Shepard and he meant that. He hated the bastard with all his heart.

"I need you to deliver to shipments for me. There's a warehouse over in Bixby where I import beers and such. But you know, they ain't really beer. What I got in there is all weaponry, and I don't know where it's goin' to, I don't want to know really. I just know it's goin' to some guy named Jay Carter and I want you to be my bodyguard and watch out for rats."

"I worked in a warehouse for four years. Rats are everywhere, Tim. Why don't you use one of your pansy friends from your gang?"

"Screw you. I mean snitches. I need you to be my ears and watch my fucking ass. And I'm not using my gang because I don't trust my gang. But you, you're too prestigious. You're too worried about your own image."

Darry glared at Tim. What he hated was that everything Tim said was true. He was right and there was nothing he could do about it except find some way to get back at Tim in the future. "Fine. But you get busted, and Tim, I'll kill you if you take me down with you. I'm not joking. I'll kill you if you go near Steve, too. How much are you paying me?"

Tim laughed. "Five bucks an hour, under the table. I'll pay you at the end of each night. It's only once a week that these come in. I get 'em, drive 'em to the warehouse, and then my conscious is clear as crystal."

"Fine. Get out of my house."

Tim looked like he was going to open his house to make a smart remark, but Darry gave him one look and Tim closed his mouth and smiled. "Thanks for all you help, friend."

_One of these days,_ Darry thought, _I'll get that sonuvawhore. _Hopefully it'd be before anything worse happened.

Darry sighed and didn't know what to think about, Linda or Tim. Of all the people in the world, he seemed to have the worst luck out there. It just wasn't fair. He sat at the table and sighed, putting his head in his hands. Kitty jumped into his lap and began to purr.

"At least I have you, cat."

Kitty glanced up at him and jumped off of his lap in search of a more comfortable bed. He sighed and felt a lump rise in his throat, but quickly pushed it down. That was the last thing he needed.

Next door the neighbors began to scream and shout. Even from the kitchen he could hear a woman's voice shout "You're a disgrace!", and a door slam, probably in her husband's drunken face. He could hear the man swearing and cussing, pounding away at the front door of his house. He wondered about the kids, the girl he'd seen before. And all he could do to escape was turn on a record as loud as it could go while the rest of the neighbors turned the same deaf ear he was turning.

It was simply the only thing he knew to do for the moment.


End file.
